


Clint and Natasha: Witch Hunters or Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

by lola381pce



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: A hint of Coulson/May relationship, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, BAMF Phil Coulson, Canon-Typical Violence, Demons, Entities, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Holy Trinity of Hot, M/M, Mischievous Clint & Natasha, Multi, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Threesome, Pre-twosome, Spells & Enchantments, Swearing, Werewolves, Witch Curses, Witch Hunters, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to Hansel and Gretel during the years in between their first witch kill in the gingerbread cottage in the woods to becoming celebrity bounty hunters? How did they learn their skills? Where did they get their weapons? Well, dear reader, it is a little known fact they became Agents (Clint and Natasha - Hansel and Gretel were actually aliases) of a secret organisation that watched over and investigated the supernatural; an organisation that went by the name of Slayers, Hunters and Investigators of Entities, Lamiae and Demons otherwise known as S.H.I.E.L.D. This is their story and that of the leather-clad man who rescued them as children and came back into their lives as adults, the man called Coulson; The Demon Slayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Clint (Hansel) and Natasha (Gretel) are no longer children but are teenagers. There is still NO smut at this point concerning the Holy Trinity of Hot - although teenage hormones are beginning to waken but there is some mild stuff with Coulson and May (not detailed though). I'll continue to update the notes as the story progresses. 
> 
> I've put in tags which are current but I'll update with anything else as it occurs. It's a work in progress and the explicit stuff will happen in later chapters (sorry, so don't go looking for it now cos trust me, you aren't going to find it!). 
> 
> Not all Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Avengers characters will appear, at least not straight away. I'll add them as I write them into the story. As usual the characters belong to Marvel (and the Brothers Grimm on this occasion) and I'm just having a little fun with them. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy. I'd love to hear what you think so please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos and/or kisses. 
> 
> To Mad_Muse_Musings and Geeky_MikaBoo - well it's started, let's see where it goes! Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Two children alone in the woods, a boy and a girl; he happened upon them by chance. The black wolf brought them this way as the man in leather followed on his horse as was the norm these days (and more often than not, nights). The black wolf found everything, be it trouble or treasure. The man wasn’t sure which these would turn out to be but the hair rising on the back of his neck and powerful forearms made him presume the former.  They sat huddled together backs to a huge oak covered in blood and gore. He looked down at them as they stared at him, eyes wide and full of fear, their gazes darting between the man and the wolf.  Although obviously afraid, they made no sound and he appreciated their bravery although the condition in which he found them concerned him greatly. He had no idea of their ages having little experience of children but he guessed about ten or eleven years apiece.

Slowly the man slid from the dappled grey mare and making himself as unassuming as possible, not an easy task for although he wasn’t a tall man or a even large man, he exuded an air of power and authority that could be considered frightening to some, he walked carefully towards them. The children squeezed tighter together and each held a large, crooked knife pointed towards him (the girl) and the wolf that stood at his side (the boy). He sighed inwardly; it seemed he still had work to do before he could consider himself a calming influence. He slowed his pace and said gently, “Harm not the wolf, boy; he travels with me.”

“He does?” the boy whispered unable to keep the awe from his voice as he lowered the knife.

“Aye, he does. But he won’t eat you unless I permit him.” The huge wolf turned to him making a chuffing noise and with his one remaining eye glared at the man. The man shrugged apologetically, he had to get their attention somehow.

He crouched down in front of the children. “Are you and your sister alone here?”

“Yes, but she’s not my sister,” the boy said screwing up his face at the thought of being related to the flame-haired girl sitting beside him.

The girl scowled at him and hissed, “Shut up, idiot.”

Realising he’d somehow let the girl down, the boy clamped his mouth shut.

“It matters not to me if you’re alone or with company but tonight is not a night to be in these woods either way. We have to get you out of here.” He held out his hand to them and only just managed to pull it back as the girl sliced at him with the blade.

“Girl, I mean you no ill-will but the thing that follows us will cause you far greater harm than I ever could,” and as though to demonstrate his point, there was a terrifying screech from somewhere behind them.

The children jumped and looked at each other. The sounds from the woods turned their blood cold more so than the witch in the cottage had done. The man in leather addressed them both but his words were for the girl, if he could convince her the boy would follow.

“I wish we could debate this, truly I do, but there is little time. I hate to cause you fear however this thing could be a demon, a witch, an entity of some kind any of which could tear you limb from limb without pausing for breath. I can see you have some experience of this.” He gestured to their clothing and faces. “Please, let me help you. Let me get you somewhere safe.”

They looked at each other once more. Neither of them had cause to trust the stranger but he somehow he made them feel as though they could have faith in him; his calm voice and honesty gave them hope that he wouldn’t abandon them as their parents had done. Maybe this stranger would protect them in a way that their parents had failed to do.

The girl nodded at the boy and the two of them stood. The man allowed himself a small smile. He stood back from them and gestured to the horse which walked towards him. He pressed his forehead to her nose and spoke to her as he gently rubbed the animal’s neck.

“Triskelion, I need you to take the children to safety.” He paused assessing which safe house was closest. “Take them to May.”

The wolf turned sharply to the man. Again he shrugged, “She’s closest,” he explained. The wolf seemed to nod and backed away from the small group turning towards the screams in the depth of the trees, his hackles raised and the lips of his muzzle pulled back in a snarl.

The man turned back to the children. “My name is Coulson. Triskelion will take you to a friend of mine; her name is May. She will keep you safe until I can come for you.”

“You’re not coming with us?” the boy asked, clearly upset. He clutched the girl’s hand. Maybe their belief in him had been misplaced after all.

Coulson flicked his eyes over his shoulder in the same direction the wolf was staring. “No. I have to stay here. I can’t let this thing hurt anyone else. Triskelion will get you to safety. Of that I promise you.” There was another horrifying screech from the trees but much closer this time. He quickly opened a saddlebag and removed some items. He also pulled a sword, a crossbow with bolts, and several guns which had been attached behind the saddle. These he carefully laid on the ground. The children’s eyes widened as they watched him.

“Time to go.” And he held out his hand to the girl again.  She glared at him but he didn’t falter, his intense blue eyes holding her stare seeming almost amused by her ferocity. She took his hand and he lifted her into the saddle placing the reigns in her hand. He swung the boy up behind her.

“You don’t need to do anything. The horse knows her way there. Just hold on and trust her.” He began to move away but the girl put her hand on his shoulder. “Natasha,” she told him. He nodded instinctively understanding that for her giving him her name was an extreme show of trust. The boy leaned over placing his hand on Coulson’s cheek in an oddly intimate gesture towards the stranger which both scared and comforted him. “I’m Clint.”

Again, Coulson nodded but he gave the boy a small smile. “Ride safe. And don’t turn back.” He whispered in his horse’s ear and patted her gently on the neck before pushing her away. The horse blew out her nostrils at him and headed off in the opposite direction to the commotion coming from deep within the trees getting closer all the time.

He looked down at the wolf as he armed himself with the weapons he’d taken from the horse. He swung the sword in one hand a couple of times and threw the crossbow onto his shoulder with the other.

“Ready, Fury?” he asked looking down at the huge one-eyed wolf. The beast drew back its lips in snarl or maybe a smile and the two of them waited for the appearance of the thing in the trees.


	2. Chapter 2

Triskelion knew exactly where she was going; the man in leather had trained her well and she alternated between trotting and cantering through the woods to get them there. Clint and Natasha held on as best they could. The children were not experienced riders and the journey was uncomfortable at best but finally, and without incident, they made it to the small village where the safe house was located.

Coulson’s horse took them to a large house on the edge with stables and outbuildings. Having set a brisk pace, she slid to a stop on the cobbles in the yard, nostrils flaring. At once a young dark-haired woman came towards them a concerned expression on her face; she recognised the mare but not her riders. She called to one of the others who had come running from the stables.

“Jasper, get May…then fetch Dr Bell,” she added as she caught the boy while he slid off the back of the horse his skin pale and sweaty, his body shaking.

He nodded and ran into the house to carry out her instructions.

Natasha landed like a cat beside them, stealthy and precise for one so young. Triskelion turned to head back the way she came but the girl caught the reigns unwilling to let the horse go just yet. As she did so another woman appeared silently by her side and the girl tensed and pointed the knife at her.

“Take him inside,” the new arrival instructed the younger woman who held Clint in her arms. She spoke with an unmistakable authority that reminded Natasha of Coulson. This must be his friend May he spoke about. She gently took the reigns from the girl but left her the knife. “Go with them. I’ll see to Triskelion.”

Natasha lowered the blade and nodded, grateful that the decision had been made for her. She didn’t want to leave the horse but she couldn’t leave the boy either. She followed after Clint like a shadow and left May to hand Coulson’s horse to a stable boy with instructions to rub her down and give her water. She made sure the boy understood to tie the horse securely in her stall; Triskelion had been taught by Coulson how to escape if the need arose and she had no doubt the horse would try to get back to him as quickly as possible. May couldn’t let her go without being able to follow her.

As a last instruction she asked that Hill’s, Sitwell’s and her horses were readied along with the cart – they would be leaving shortly to find Coulson. He nodded and led Triskelion away. She paused and sighed then called after him. “Ward, saddle Blake’s horse instead of mine.”

She entered the house as the young woman who’d carried Clint in left the guestroom closing the door behind her. “How is he?”

“The physician’s with him now.”

“The girl?”

“Won’t leave his side,” and she nodded towards Jasper grinning at the man who was leaning against the wall rubbing his jaw.

“She punched me!” he complained. “The little guttersnipe punched me. I was only trying to take her out of the room while Bell worked.”

May rolled her eyes unwilling to give him any sympathy; the girl was among strangers and trying to remove her from the boy’s side was a fool’s errand.  He was lucky she’d only punched him. She frowned at the memory of the vicious blade she held in her hand as she stood by the horse.

“Get your face seen to, Jasper. I don’t want you unable to fight tonight because you’re an idiot.”

Marie smirked at him as they headed off to get him treatment for the bruising that was already beginning to form. "Won't matter if your face is seen to," she told him, "you'll always be ugly."

He narrowed his eyes at her and winced as it hurt his jaw. "Fuck off, Hill," he retorted rubbing the injured area again.

"Really? That's the best you can come up with, nocky boy?"

May knocked and entered the bedroom. The physician was putting the equipment he’d been using to examine Clint back into his bag and was closing it up. Natasha continued to watch him suspiciously as she had done all through the examination. Fortunately he'd had the sense to explain to her what he was doing at every step in order to keep her curiosity satisfied and presumably to prevent him suffering the same fate as Sitwell.

“Dr Bell.”

“Good evening, Melinda. I’m afraid it would appear our young friend here has the sugar sickness. I shall leave some medicine for him and a syringe. He must be injected with this every few hours to begin with then on a regular basis thereafter. I’ll return in the morning to see how he’s faring.” He nodded towards the door and May followed him out. “Dear god! What the hell happened to those children?” he asked her genuinely shocked at their condition.

“Bell, I have no idea. They got here only a few moments ago on Coulson’s horse.”

The physician’s brow furrowed deeper than it was already, Coulson he knew wouldn’t relinquish Triskelion lightly. “I’m sorry, Melinda. If you have need of me send someone immediately.”

She nodded and thanked him grateful that he’d suggested being called – the likelihood was he’d be back before the night was out. As Bell left, another agent appeared looking dishevelled having been woken by a junior on Hill’s instruction. “What’s going on?” he drawled.

“Two children appeared on Triskelion. No sign of Coulson or Fury. The boy has sugar sickness and both were covered in blue gunk holding knives with crooked blades.”

He ran his hand over his face then through his hair. “Witches. But that shouldn’t have stopped Coulson and Fury from returning. You think…?”

“There was word of a level four demon in the woods. He was going to investigate on his way here.”

“If he was protecting the youngsters and it appeared…”

May nodded. It had been her thinking too.

“Get ready to leave with Hill and Sitwell, Treskalion will lead you to him. I’ll talk to the girl and try to find out what happened.”

Blake nodded realising how much is was costing her to remain behind. He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze and very quickly let go again lest anyone should see; May wasn’t much for showing emotion. “We’ll bring him back,” he promised.

Within half an hour the three agents along with a fourth to drive the cart were armed ready to go. May watched from the window already regretting the decision not to go but it was more important for her to be here at present. She made her way to the guestroom to check on their unexpected visitors and to question the girl and although she was frustrated by what she saw, she wasn’t surprised. The boy was on his back sound asleep with the girl tucked in against him her arm wrapped round his chest; tight in her hand she gripped the dagger. Even in sleep she was protecting her friend. May allowed herself a small smile as she watched them for a few moments before leaving the room. As she closed the door she felt the intense stare of the girl on her but chose to ignore it even as the grin on her face widened at the deviousness of the child. She and the wily little guttersnipe would speak later.

***

Finally, May heard the sound of a horse entered the yard – Jasper. He reported to May at the door where she stood waiting before heading to the physician’s home for a second time that evening. May felt the tension release from her shoulders; they’d found him, injured but alive.


	3. Chapter 3

The black wolf had stationed himself outside Coulson’s door letting no-one except May, Hill and Dr Bell into the injured agent’s room. At present he was behaving more like his name than normal having being wounded himself during the encounter with the demon that had stalked them in the woods, which incidentally had turned out to be level five not a level four as had been rumoured. The resulting battle had ended with several deep tears in the side and a torn ear for him and a broken arm, dislocated shoulder, cracked ribs and multiple lacerations for Coulson. Not to mention a concussion and cracked cheekbone. Had he not been wearing his leather and chainmail long-coat he would likely have been killed before eventually managing to pin the demon down and beheading it.

Following his treatment of Coulson, Bell had examined the wolf from a distance (“ _My god, Maria! I’m not an animal doctor and I’m certainly not insane enough to go near a wolf of that size or any other especially when his name is Fury. No, no, my dear. I’ll tell you what to do and you can treat him_ ”) and Maria had cleaned and bandaged the cuts. As much as Fury trusted her even she hadn’t managed to escape unscathed; when she’d unintentionally hurt him when cleaning his ear he’d caught her with his eye tooth as he snarled and pulled his head away. Immediately contrite he’d licked her hand and allowed her to finish without further protest.

“I should think so,” she admonished him. He chuffed and looked mournfully at her while she cleaned her own cut before tending to him once again. After completing her ministrations she joined May who was sitting with Coulson while Fury guarded the room. The Demon Slayer had been barely conscious when they’d found him and had been drifting in and out ever since although it hadn’t stopped him swearing like the soldier he’d once been when the doctor had re-set his arm. After apologising to Bell for his language he stoically accepted the cleaning, stitching and bandaging of his wounds before passing out again.

Maria and May would be taking turns in watching over him at the request of the doctor due to the concussion. At present he was resting against some pillows, demanding to know who had stripped him out of his leathers and what had happened to them this time.

“Coulson, if you didn’t keep getting yourself injured…” May began before being interrupted by a somewhat intoxicated Coulson thanks to the drugs Bell had given him for the pain.

“May, May, May. Sweet Melinda May. All I ask is that whosoever removes them treats them with a bit of care and respect. The last time someone cut off my trousers they missed all the seams and the tailor had the devil of a time stitching them back together. A little care and respect, May, is it _really_ too much to ask? Respect a man’s clothes, respect the man.”

May rolled her eyes. Seriously? She would words with Bell over this.

“Fine! I did it this time. I took advantage of you…” Coulson raised his eyebrows and gave her a dopey grin at that “…being unconscious and removed them without the need for cutting. They’re folded neatly over the chair waiting for you. Now shut up and go to sleep or something. You’re being an un-muzzled idle-headed miscreant!”

His drugged up grin widened. “Thank you, May. And for all that you’re a villainous shardborne flapdragon, it is still acceptable for you to want me.”

Once more with the eye roll accompanied by a shake of her head; where did that even come from! She _really_ would be having words with Bell. She sighed. “Coulson, you have nothing I that have not seen before.”

As he closed his eyes, exhaustion, pain and definitely the drugs finally claiming him, he murmured, “But mine is _very_ well put together.”

Marie, who was leaning against the door frame, could not argue with that and smirked glad his eyes were closed and May’s back was towards her. He _was_ very well put together a fact she couldn’t fail to notice when she’d helped remove his clothing earlier. She hoped her face was not burning at the memory.

May leaned over to kiss his forehead and said gently “Yes oh mighty Demon Slayer. Sleep now.” She turned to Maria who was stifling her laughter at the door. She knew May and Coulson had known each other for a long time but this was a side to them she’d never seen before and she was touched that May had allowed her to be there. “Maria, you have my permission to remind him of this conversation in the morning.”

Hill nodded knowing full well that Coulson would be lucky if he could remember anything of the evening when he woke again. “Get some rest,” she told her mentor. “I’ll watch over him.”

***

A few hours later there was a commotion outside the door.

“Ow! Fuck’s sake, Fury” Blake shouted pulling his hand away from the wolf’s snapping jaws. “I only wanted in to see how he’s doing!”

Fury however was having none of it and kept up a steady rumble from his chest until Blake finally understood he wasn’t getting into his friend’s room at that moment in time. “Fine you cantankerous bastard of a dog! I’ll come back later when you’re in a mood that’s more genial towards friends of the patient. And don’t piss in my boots again!”

She pulled open the door and stuck her head out.

“Oh, he lets you in,” Blake grouched.

“I don’t threaten to castrate him every time I see him.”

“He doesn’t piss in your boots either I’d imagine. How’s he doing?”

“He’d probably sleep better if you’d stop pitching a fit outside his room.” She slipped past the wolf and led Blake down the hallway to give him an update on Coulson’s condition. As they spoke, one of the junior agents hurried towards them with a desperate look on his face hovering until Blake finally snapped, “What is _wrong_ with you, boy?”

Looking as though he would be sick he stuttered, “Th-the children.”

“What about them?” Hill asked quickly and calmly before Blake could say…or rather shout anything.

“They’re not in their room.”

“Oh joy! Defeated by two children. I knew there was a reason I don’t train agents, they’re imbeciles. Hill, shall speak with you in the morrow.” And he stalked off.

“How long have they been missing?”

“No more than ten minutes. Shall I…shall I tell Agent May.”

“Let’s see if we can find them first. Check the kitchens, then the stables and outbuildings. If there’s still no sign of them, then we’ll tell Agent May.”

“Tell Agent May what?” said Agent May from behind Maria. Maria rolled her eyes in disbelief at the senior agent’s silent appearance and gestured for the junior to depart on his quest. He ran overjoyed not to be the one to tell May.

“Apparently the children have outfoxed us and disappeared.”

May frowned remembering how Coulson would not be calmed until she’d convinced them the children had arrived unharmed and had been taken care of. “Then we had better find them before Coulson wakes. Go and look for them. I’ll sit with him.”

Maria nodded and headed off after the other agent until May called her back quietly.

“How long were you out of this room?” May asked as she approached.

“No more than five minutes. Agent Blake was enquiring after Agent Coulson but Fury was acting up so I led him away to speak with him.”

“And you were in sight of the room at all times?”

“I was exactly where you found me.”

“Then it appears that we have indeed been outfoxed by two children.” And she pushed open the door. Maria raised her eyebrows at the sight in front of her for on the bed was Coulson still asleep and on his uninjured side was Clint cuddled in against the agent, his head resting on his good arm and tucked behind him was Natasha her arm wrapped round the boy, all three of them oblivious to the stares of the two women as they slept soundly together.

“I have no words, Agent May,” Maria apologised having no idea how the children managed to enter the room without her seeing or the wolf, now lying at the side of the bed, giving no warning.

“Nor have I, Maria. If they remain with us, I fear we are going to be kept on our toes for a long time to come. Good night, Maria.”

Shaking her head, the young woman bid her good night and retreated to her own quarters berating herself for letting Coulson and May down on her watch.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint woke first (in actual fact Clint woke last but that’s not the way he saw it as he was first to open his eyes and actually move). Natasha was still wrapped around him and Coulson lay immobile on his back breathing softly. When he opened his eyes he was looking at Coulson’s upper arm and as his vision slowly came into focus he saw a black tattoo of circles and spirals. Tentatively he reached up and gently traced the pattern with his index finger. Not expecting the touch the muscles in the agent’s arm jumped, which startled Clint and made him squeak at the same time.

“Idiot!” Natasha hissed in his ear as they slid off the bed to hide on the floor.

Coulson lay there for a moment trying not to laugh but eventually he couldn’t help it and chuckled quietly (and carefully) before telling them, “You can come back up, both of you.”

There was neither sound nor movement from the floor.

“Clint. Natasha.”

At last there was a long suffering sigh [Natasha] and a short cry of pain [Clint] then the two of them peered up at him over the side of the bed, Clint rubbing the back of his head where the girl had slapped him.

“How did you know it was us?” Clint asked pouting.

Coulson turned his head towards them and thought for a moment wondering how to explain that there was really no-one else who would dare be in his room right now and certainly not on his bed…well, perhaps no-one other than May but that was not a story for children’s ears. “Who else would it be?”

“Agent May?” Natasha deadpanned.

Uh-huh. Some people were too clever for their own good. “She doesn’t sleep so quietly.”

He caught the edge of Natasha’s mouth turning up in an almost smile before it disappeared again.

They stood up and gingerly sat back on the bed beside him. In the daylight they could see how badly injured he was with the cuts, stitches and bruising clearly visibly against his pale skin. His arm was in a sling with his elbow bent at a right angle and secured to his chest, his shoulder having been painfully manipulated back into the socket by Bell the night before; the swelling and bruising was beginning to manifest itself all too clearly around the area. Other bandages partially covered his stomach and chest concealing the multitudes of lacerations he’d received during the clash with the demon.

“What is it?” Clint asked pointing at the tattoo.

“It’s a triskelion.”

“Like your horse?”

“Like my horse.”

“What does it mean?”

“Triskelion is a Greek word that means “three legged” – tri (three times) and skelos (leg). The symbol itself can mean a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

Coulson held his breath for a few seconds and then let it out slowly. He really wasn’t in condition to undertake an interrogation by two curious children, one of whom seemed incapable of staying quiet for more than 10 seconds. Still, ever hopeful of rescue by May or Hill or perhaps even Anthony Start Esquire right about now (no, that was going _too_ far), he gamely continued to answer Clint’s questions.

“We-e-e-ll… it can mean Past, Present, Future or Spirit, Mind, Body or Power, Intellect, Love.”

“Mother, Father, Child?” This was from Natasha.

“Yes,” Coulson replied gently, startled by her perceptiveness but also saddened by the pain he heard in her words. Clint however, didn’t notice and resumed asking his questions.

“Do you have others?”

“A few.”

“Can I see them?”

“Maybe another time.”

“Why?”

“They’re mostly under the bandages.”

“Oh.”

“Idiot!” sighed Natasha. She’d said it so often recently Clint was beginning to think it was his name.

“Can you describe them?”

“I could.”

Clint waited then decided to prompt Coulson when he didn’t answer. “So…”

“Clint enough now, let him rest” said a voice from the doorway. It was May with her arms folded over her chest. “Go to the kitchen and get some breakfast both of you.”

Neither of them moved. Natasha was torn; she wanted to stay with Coulson because she trusted him and she felt it was her job to protect him as he had her but on the other hand she was beginning to admire May especially the way she could appear silently from nowhere and she didn’t want to disappoint her. Although he was hungry and breakfast sounded like an excellent idea, Clint waited for Natasha to make the first move which she did by looking at Coulson. He nodded and she slipped off the bed followed closely by Clint.

“Where’s the kitchen?” he asked.

“Follow your nose.” May replied and they ran off down the hall.

“What have I done?” Coulson groaned closing his eyes.

May huffed out a small laugh and sat down carefully on the bed beside him so as not to jolt him. “Yes, Agent Coulson, what _have_ you done? Last night, the girl punched Sitwell in the face, bullied Dr Bell and nearly gave 3 junior agents heart failure by disappearing and reappearing in this room with the boy while one senior agent, one very cable junior agent and a wolf were outside your door and apparently no-one saw a thing. Although personally I believe the wolf knows more than he’s letting on.”

Fury yawned and grumbled rolling over onto his back pretending to be asleep to avoid further chastisement from May.

Coulson groaned again. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Yes…well…you had to rescue them, give them your horse _and_ take on a fifth level demon on your own with no exit strategy.” She stayed silent for a moment to let him realise foolish he’d been sink in, not that it would stop him doing the same thing again if the need arose. “So, genius, how do you feel?”

“Like I was hit by a fifth level demon.” He paused then asked, “What are we going to do with them?”

“What we always do. Give them a choice. The boy, by the way, has the sugar sickness.”

Coulson frowned then winced at the movement as it sent a searing pain through his face and head, the movement pulling on the stitches above his eye and the bruising to his cheekbone. His already pounding head gave another throb.

May narrowed her eyes. “Do you want some more medicine?”

“No. I want to get up.”

“Well as that’s not going to happen how about some breakfast?”

“If that’s to be the highlight of my day, then I suppose yes. Thank you.”

“No, Agent, Agent! _This_ is the highlight of your day.”

“Oh lord no! Let it be the drugs. Please let it be the drugs.” Coulson closed his eyes tight shut ignoring the pain it caused willing the voice and the person it belonged to disappear.

“Hmmm! Looking like a fen-sucked barnacle, Coulson. Good job I’ve arrived to make your life more complete and full of joy.”

Coulson looked at May with something akin to pleading in his expression as well as tone when he spoke. “Please, May. If you ever had feelings for me, put me out of my misery and stab me through the heart now.”

“You had feelings, May? Well fuck me! Wonders will never cease.”

“Stark. A mewling codpiece as always. Coulson, I’ll have someone bring you breakfast shortly. Stark, with me.”

“But I came to visit the hero of the hour…again. Actually, no. Wait. If I go with you will I get a drink? Whisky or gin would suffice. Even beer or if it’s strong enough…none of that weak cat’s piss you feed the agents round here. Some of that ‘put hair on your arse’ stuff that you and Coulson probably bathe in. Does he have hair on his arse? Do you?”

“Thanks for the help,” Coulson groused at the wolf who whined apologetically from under the bed. Both of them were just grateful that Stark’s voice and inane chatter was getting fainter as he followed May down the hallway.

***

“Why are you here, Stark?” May asked as she led him towards the kitchen and dining hall.

“If I tell you will I get a drink?”

“If you don’t, you will get thrown out.”

“Feisty wench! I see what Coulson likes about you.”

“Stark!” The warning in her tone was very clear.

“Very well, but really, you are _no_ fun. A rider arrived at my door last night sent by Bell. You have a boy with the sugar sickness?” She nodded. “Well then I come bearing gifts,” and with a flourish he pulled a strange device from the large leather satchel he was carrying – it looked like a sundial without the dial. “You set it to the number of hours between each injection and it will alert the boy as to when his next one is due to be taken. He should wear it on his wrist.”

He handed it to May who turned it over in her hands. It was an amazing and quite beautiful piece of work. She didn’t have the heart to tell him it was far too big for Clint. Still she was sure they could modify it in such a way that it could be worn by him. “You worked on this all night?”

He thought for a moment. Yes he had indeed; the basic plans were already there for a wrist mounted time piece but with a few modifications it was easily changed into and warning signal wrist mounted time piece. He had to think of a snappier name for it though. He nodded in a rather shy and unassuming way for a change which almost changed May’s perceptions of him.

She led him into the kitchen were the cook and the scullery maid were readying plates for the influx of agents that would soon be arriving for their breakfast. The children were sitting at a large oak table were consuming platefuls of bacon and sausage and fried bread washing it down with cups of beer. Clint was shovelling it in as though he hadn’t eaten for a week, which to be fair was almost true as neither he nor Natasha had eaten much except for gingerbread and candy and other sweet things forced on them by the witch in the woods. Natasha however was eating far slower, savouring every mouthful eating it daintily. They looked up as May and Stark came in. Natasha stopped chewing and narrowed her eyes staring suspiciously at Stark her hand going to the witch’s knife which lay on the table beside her. Clint looked up then carried on eating, not wanting a new face to get in the way of food.

“Clint, Natasha, this is Mr Stark. Clint he has something for you.” That got Clint’s attention. Nobody had given him much of anything except a black eye or split lip for as long as he could remember.

“Why?” he asked with a mouthful of bread and sausage.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full and I believe the proper response is, thank you.”

Clint looked to Natasha for guidance however she was of no help as she continued to stare at the new arrival warily. The fact that he was introduced by May was the only reason she was still sitting at the table.

Okay, so he would have to take his guidance from Agent May. “Thank you. Why?”

Stark snorted out a laugh. “Because I heard you needed something to help you keep well. And this will do it, although I fear it may be a tad large.” And he held out the time piece to Clint. His eyes went wide and he dropped his fork onto the plate as he reached out for it.

“This is really for me?” he whispered turning it over in his hands much like May had done. Stark nodded and explained to him how it worked.

During the exchange, Natasha continued to eat as she watched. She was glad that Clint has something other than her to remind him to take his medicine but she was a little, not jealous exactly, perhaps more wistful, that someone had been kind enough to give him a gift.

When Stark had finished leaving Clint to examine his new time piece he turned to Natasha. “You have no sickness.” If he’d blinked he’d have missed the shake of her head. He nodded. “That’s good. So if you’re not sick, you don’t need one of those.” Again with the headshake. “But you like to look after Clint?” The third head shake surprised Stark.

“I _have_ to look after Clint. He’s an idiot.” Oblivious to the insult, Clint continued to admire his gift. May and Stark clenched their jaws in a heroic effort not to laugh.

Solemnly, and with amazing control it had to be said, Stark nodded. “I have a friend who looks after me like that. Do you think it would be easier with this?” and from his pocket he drew out a curved knife and once again held it out to be taken. Natasha looked May who nodded and she reached out her hand removing the blade gently from his fingers to examine it, and if he didn’t know any better, getting the feel for the balance of it.

“Someone will teach you how…” and he broke off as Natasha threw it underhand at the door frame embedding it into the woodwork missing Sitwell by a few inches who swore mightily. “…to use it.” Stark finished, his jaw dropping open.

“Thank you. Come on, Clint.” And she tore off yanking the knife from the doorframe on the way past.

“Thank you,” Clint repeated and ran after her.

“Don’t throw knives in the house, guttersnipe.” Sitwell hollered after her.

“Well…that was…interesting? Where are they going?”

“Back to Coulson I would guess.”

“Really?” Stark raised his eyebrows fascinated that the children would want to spend any time at all with the agent, rumours of daring deeds and heroism aside. Stark knew he wasn’t the type of man who would openly talk about such things unless he reporting back to SHIELD, certainly not as entertainment.

“It would seem that they’ve bonded.”

“ _Really_?” At that his eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair.

“It won’t last. He’ll be gone once more when he recovers and they’ll resent him for it. Let’s get you that drink, Stark. You’ve earned it.”

***

 _Melinda May was very rarely wrong but on this occasion she could not have been more so; some bonds were meant to last a lifetime no matter the challenges that lay ahead_.


	5. Chapter 5

“Blake, stop making a performance out of it. I need a piss, that’s all. I don’t need you to help me other than giving me the pot once I get out of bed. I can manage the rest myself.”

“May will dismember me if she catches you up and about. I’m under strict instructions not to assist you with any undertaking that aids you in that endeavour.”

“Then we won’t let her catch me. If you stop fussing I can get this done quicker. And if you put your hand anywhere near my cock again, by all that’s sacred I _will_ hurt you.”

“I’m nowhere near your cock.”

“Where you think my cock ends and where it actually ends are two entirely different things.”

“Eh?...Ohhh!”

“Exactly! Pot please.”

Fury was sitting outside the door, trying not to listen, patiently waiting for the ‘performance’ to finish when Clint and Natasha ran up to him. He did not permit them entry gently pushing Clint with his shoulder and blocking the doorway with his body when they tried to get past. Not wanting to hurt the wolf by shoving by and accidentally touching his wounds, or indeed antagonise him, Clint tried to reason with him. “But we need to get in Fury,” he whined. Fury growled and nosed him back again.

Coulson and Blake looked at each other and froze – the horrified expression on their faces said it all. Ignoring his earlier protestations at helping Coulson get out of bed, Blake almost lifted him from the mattress then handed him the chamber pot turning his back while the other agent emptied his bladder. After managing to wash his hands in the basin by the window, Coulson hurriedly returned to his bed, somehow managing to do so without falling on his face, and with Blake’s assistance got into a reasonably comfortable position.  It was not a moment too soon, for the children finally got past the wolf, which followed them in, and stormed into the room to stop dead in their tracks when they saw the frowning face of Blake.

“What do you two troublemakers want?” he asked gruffly, arms folded over his chest.

Looking flustered they averted their gazes to the floor. Coulson rolled his eyes at Blake knowing full well he wasn’t as curmudgeonly as he appeared but he’d spent many years cultivating the image and it had served him well up until and including now. However at present, and certainly with these two children, it wasn’t particularly helpful.

“Thank you Blake. I appreciate your assistance but I’m sure you have many other things that are more worthy of your attention than these two.”

Blake harrumphed and as a parting shot told the children not to tire Coulson out…he’d be watching. Clint continued to look at the floor but Natasha raised her eyes meeting Blake’s stare head on almost daring him to prove he would, in fact, be watching. He cocked an eyebrow her returning the challenge.

“May mentioned something about breakfast. I’d be most appreciative if you could see if I’m still allowed to be fed in my fragile condition, Blake. Agent Blake!”

Narrowing his eyes at Natasha in a final glare, he nodded to Coulson and left.

“Do you really have to antagonise him?” he asked of her. She wrinkled her nose and shrugged not understanding the word.

“Annoy him,” he clarified. A small, wicked smile passed over her lips and it took all Coulson’s skill and control not to smile back at her, it really wouldn’t help the situation. “So, I assume you are here to see me about something.”

They sat on the bed, Clint closest, to show him what Stark had given them, each talking over the other to explain what the gift was and how it should be used. After less than a minute of this the pounding in his head started up again and he held up the forefinger of his good hand in a gesture of ‘silence’. Upon seeing it the children stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.

“Thank you,” he sighed. “Now, one at a time. Clint?”

As the level of noise decreased the pain in his head reduced to a manageable level and he was able to listen to them and ask them questions about the time piece and the knife. At last the chatter died down and Phil said, “You need to thank Mister Stark.”

Clint looked confused. “But we did.”

“It is considered courteous to write him a note of thanks.”

Clint’s eyes narrowed and he pushed his lips into a thin line staring Coulson a hardness coming into his eyes and his tone. “But. I. _Said_. Thank you.”

Phil noted the change in his personality with interest but continued not quite appreciating the significance of it. “I understand that, Clint and it’s commendable that you did so but don’t you think it would be polite to thank him in writing for such a fine gift?”

Clint understood what Coulson was saying but all he really heard was “writing.”

“No.”

Clint dropped his eyes from Coulson’s face and the agent could feel him tense up beside him; the earlier excitement having vanished to be replaced with a coldness that was bordering on hostile.

“Clint.” The boy kept his eyes down and stayed silent.

Coulson kept his voice soft and calm even though he was actually worried about the complete transformation in the boy over such a simple request. “Clint. Talk to me.”

In the end it was Natasha who spoke. “He can’t write.” Clint shot her a betrayed look as tears welled up then dropped from his eyes to run down his cheeks that burned with the shame he felt.

There was a knock on the door frame and Coulson shouted “Not now,” but it was too late. Clint jumped from the bed and ran from the room pushing past Maria who was carrying Coulson’s breakfast. Natasha glanced at him before following the boy; her expression was a mix of pity and irritation at his stupidity. Maybe he was just another adult after all.

Coulson slammed his head into the pillows welcoming the pain it brought. He felt like an ass. He knew nothing of these children’s backgrounds, lord he’d met them less than a day ago and spent most of that unconscious, suddenly he was an expert? Why should he have assumed that either of them could read or write? It would have been more logical to assume they could not. Fuck!

“Are you alright, sir?” Maria asked him.

“No. I’m a damned fool, Agent Hill.” He sighed and gave her a weak smile. “Thank you for bringing me breakfast.”

Maria nodded deciding not to comment on the Demon Slayer’s cryptic words and advised him instead that Dr Bell was outside.

“Tell him to come in.”

She left and was immediately replaced by the doctor.

“Well! You look ghastly. How do you feel?”

“I’ve felt better…but then I’ve felt worse too.”

“Really? You always did bullshit well, Phillip. Do we have to discuss your injuries?”

Coulson sighed, “No, sir, we do not.”

“Then I am assuming this melancholy you’re displaying is less to do with your body and more your mind. What troubles you, my friend?”

“I think any goodwill I had with the children has been lost by my stupidity. I called the boy on something and I may have wounded him deeply.”

Bell nodded sagely. “Well that explains the whirlwind that near knocked me over when I came in. Phillip, you’re one of the best men I know, perhaps even _the_ best. Whatever wrong you have done, I have no doubts that you shall set it right. However, I’m not here to debate the whys and wherefores of handling two foundlings but about your physical injuries so sit up and let me see.”

***

Natasha caught up with Clint at the stables. She said nothing but walked silently beside him knowing instinctively they were heading to Triskelion’s stall; seeing the horse would calm Clint again. Together they pulled back the sliding door and entered. The horse turned her head to look at them and swivelled her ears forward recognising them from the previous night. Clint put his hand up and rubbed her velvety nose. She flared her nostrils and snuffled his hand looking for food. “I’m sorry. I should have brought you an apple or something.”

“You can’t be in here. This is Coulson’s horse.”

They turned to see a boy, tall and well-built, but around their own age staring at them.

“Says who?” Clint demanded.

“Says me,” the boy returned arrogantly, curling his lip at them.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at this and after giving him an appraising look turned back to Triskelion dismissing him as not worth bothering about. Clint snorted out a laugh and he too turned back to the horse. The boy narrowed his eyes suddenly realising who they were. “You’re the ones who came in on her last night; the ones who nearly got Coulson killed.”

Natasha and Clint whirled round at that and seeing the look on their faces, the boy returned to his previous position outside the stall.

Clint clenched his fists and faced up to him. “What did you say, pretty boy?” he hissed.

“You took his horse and left him stranded in the woods. It nearly got him killed. Guttersnipes.”

“Fuck you!” Clint spat out walking towards him. What would have happened next nobody knew as Agent Hill shouted at them from the stable entrance.

“Ward, you have work to do - get on with it. Natasha, Clint, Agent Coulson’s asking for you. I suggest you head there now.” Clint and Ward stood for a few moments more facing off against each other until Hill repeated “NOW!” louder this time. It had the desired effect with Ward giving the agent a filthy look over his shoulder but complying with her order nonetheless while Natasha and Clint headed towards her. She walked back to the main house with them. “What was that about?”

The children didn’t need to look at each other to know how to respond. You didn’t tattle on someone who crossed you, you got even. In tandem they shook their heads and shrugged. Hill sighed being young enough to remember the unspoken rule about snitching. If the children stayed on she would have to monitor their interaction with the stable boy. Hill went with them as far as Coulson’s door to ensure they went directly there then she continued on to another part of the house.

Natasha and Clint entered. Natasha’s head was held high and she looked at Coulson and Bell directly in the eye. Clint by marked contrast stared at the floor refusing to make eye contact with either of them.

Gently, Coulson spoke to the boy. “Clint, Dr Bell is here to see how you are. You may go with him and speak in private or you may stay here if you wish.”

“Here’s fine,” he mumbled not raising his head.

“Speak up, boy,” said Bell. “I’m an old duffer with hearing difficulties and your muttering does not lend itself well to my disposition.”

“Here is fine, sir.” This time he did raise his head and stared defiantly at them.

“Hmmm. Better.” The doctor rattled off questions about Clint’s health and well-being which he answered if not exactly sociably then with a cool politeness. Coulson sighed inwardly berating himself for his error of earlier.

Apparently satisfied with Clint’s responses, Dr Bell finally removed a bottle and syringe from his bag. Clint took a sharp intake of breath. “Has anyone explained what ails you?”

“A little.”

“You have the sugar sickness. It means you have a disorder of the metabolism which causes your body to be unable to control the levels of sugar in the blood; that in itself means that without this medicine you will become very ill. The timepiece Mister Stark gave you will help you monitor when to get these injections and that should allow you to lead a normal life.”

At the mention of Stark’s timepiece both Natasha and Clint shot a look at Coulson. Another wave of guilt washed over him but he didn’t let it show his eyes holding theirs impassively.

“What happens if I don’t get the medicine?”

It was a good question and Bell didn’t believe in beating about the bush, “You’ll most likely fall into coma, that’s a long sleep, during which you will likely suffer damage to the brain and most likely not recover and that’s after your kidneys fail and…”

“Thank you, Dr Bell,” interrupted Coulson at the expression on Clint’s face. “It’s very serious. That’s all you need to say, it’s very serious.”

Bell nodded, chastised; he was used to speaking to adults when at S.H.I.E.L.D. and already regretted his bluntness with the boy. He beckoned for Clint to come to him and asked him to push up his sleeve. Taking a deep breath he did so and the doctor injected the insulin into his arm.

In a slightly less abrasive manner the doctor told him, “It’s very important you get these injections every day. We’ll have to work out how often will be best for you so I’ll be back to visit with you again later.” As he put his equipment away he spoke to Natasha, “I wonder young lady, would you mind accompanying me to the door?”

As sharp as always, Natasha agreed to the doctor's request seeing it for the ploy it was intended; to get Coulson and Clint together in order for them to work out their differences. “I will see both of you later. Coulson, I do not want you moving from that bed until I say so, is that understood?”

The agent opened his mouth to retort but whatever he was going to say was cut short by Clint. “I’ll make sure of it,” the boy said.

The doctor nodded apparently satisfied with the response. “Then I shall see both of you later. Good day, gentlemen.”

The ensuing silence after the doctor and Natasha had departed the room was deafening. Neither knew quite how to begin. In the end it was Coulson who spoke first after taking a moment to ponder what he wanted to say. “I apologise for earlier, Clint. It was a stupid mistake and I should have considered your views before pressing on with my opinion.”

Clint nodded and the silence fell between them again but it was a little less tense than before. “Did we really nearly get you killed?”

Well that came out of nowhere. The normally unflappable agent was taken aback by the question. He frowned and sat up from the pillows wincing at the pain it caused in his shoulder and arm, in fact, the whole of his body. “What? Why would you ask that?”

“Did we?” he repeated looking up at the agent from under his eyelashes.

Emotions flooded through Coulson ranging from anger that the boy would think this to sadness that he might actually believe it to be true. “No, Clint. You did not. I could have come with you but I chose to stay to put an end to the demon. It’s what I do.” He laughed gently in a self-depreciating way. “I’m a Demon Slayer.”

“But if we hadn’t been there, you would have come back here quicker.”

Coulson didn’t answer straight away, he mulled over what he could remember of the night before. “I can’t say. The demon was gaining quickly. If I hadn’t stopped in the clearing, it might have caught up with me somewhere I couldn’t have defended myself. But believe one thing, Clint. You didn’t _make_ me do anything. What do you believe that you did?”

Clint refused to say any more on the subject. He did however sit back in his place on the bed beside Coulson and ask him how did a demon slayer, slay demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, Geeky_MikaBoo - I did kinda say mini Clint would become mini Hawkeye in this chapter but it got away from me a little bit. So it should happen in the next chapter...honest!


	6. Chapter 6

The children had departed Coulson’s room on May’s orders to get something to eat, and to give Coulson a break. As always the thought of food put a smile on Clint’s face and he dashed off with Natasha.  May carried in a tray for Coulson along with a dish of meat for Fury and after laying it down for him, she took their place on Coulson’s bed once more. She toed off her boots and sat facing him prodding his leg with her toe. “We have to make a decision, Coulson,” she told him as he ate.

“I know.”

“Have you talked to them about it?”

“Hmmm”

“You haven’t, have you?”

He tilted his head to the side gave a tentative grin and a half shrug with his good shoulder; it gave him a boyish look that most women, including May, found endearing and generally disarmed them.

She rolled her eyes. “That look does not distract me anymore.” It was a lie but she’d learned to hide it. It still gave her a warm feeling in her stomach, damn him.

He sighed with good humour and continued eating. “It was worth a shot.”

“So…?”

“They have no where else to go.” And he told her what he knew of their stories which had unfolded hesitantly over the last few hours after Natasha had returned from seeing the doctor off.

They were not brother and sister but had found each other wandering in the woods; Clint had run away from his abusive parents and brother having suffered one too many beatings at their hands, Natasha had been taken there by her father and abandoned – she knew not why. They’d spent days either huddled together for warmth and comfort or walking trying to find a way out until finally they’d happened upon a cottage made from icing and candy. As starving children were likely to do they began to tear bits off and eat it. The next thing they knew, they’d been dragged inside; Clint had been chained and thrown in a cage, Natasha had been chained and set to work.

The witch whose gingerbread cottage they had found, had force fed candy, cakes and all manner of sweet things to Clint over a period of many days while Natasha had be made to clean and stoke the oven getting it to the witch’s required temperature which had been slow and hard work. Neither child had slept and both were terrified and exhausted. Fortunately however they’d managed to keep their wits about them and when the opportunity arose, Natasha freed Clint having picked the lock of the cage with a knife she’d managed to pocket when the witch was otherwise occupied and between them they’d fought her and pushed her in the oven finally watching her burn.

A few days later, Coulson had found them and from that point May knew the rest probably better than Coulson. She nodded. It confirmed her suspicions that they’d been taken by the rumoured Gingerbread Hag having seen Natasha with the witch’s knife and Clint now suffering from the sugar sickness. She was amazed that they had managed to kill the witch but saw no good reason for them to have lied about it.

After a long pause putting all the facts he knew together Coulson continued.

“Granted, I haven’t seen them outside of this room since that night but by all accounts from what you, Hill and Blake have told me and going by their recent history they can keep their heads in a crisis, have an aptitude for stealth and escape, they can cope with their fear – we can teach them not to show it, the girl at least can handle a weapon whereas the boy will take on someone bigger than him if he feels threatened. In short, May, if we can get Clint to stay quiet for longer than five minutes, I believe they have the capacity to become excellent agents.”

“Remarkable evaluation Agent Coulson, considering you’ve known them for all of five minutes.” She held up her hand in a ‘wait’ gesture as he stuck his tongue out at her. “Very mature behaviour for a senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and demon slayer. I can’t say I disagree with your assessment; in fact if you hadn’t said it, I would have especially having heard about their handling of the witch. Don’t you think now would be a good time to discuss it with them?”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Agent May. I know, oh mistress of snark, when I met them in the woods it was only for a few moments under extreme circumstances however they did make quite an impression at the time and let’s be honest they’ve hardly left my side since then. Besides I have little else to do cooped up in this room _but_ think. And to answer your question, yes, now probably would be a good time to tell them about S.H.I.E.L.D., I haven’t discussed it with them because I am, at present, unable to take them round and show them what we do. Either we wait until Bell decides I’m allowed out of this damned bed, or you or Hill take them round and explain. As a matter of interest, Clint asked me about demon slaying earlier.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The basics.”

“You mean the exciting stuff.”

This time Coulson’s smile was genuine and made his eyes sparkle. May’s stomach fluttered once again – damn him. “What else is there?”

“History, languages, rituals, demon lore, demonology lessons…”

He sighed and interrupted her. “Yes, good points all and well made. And, that reminds me – the boy can neither read nor write.”

May’s face broke into her own huge grin making Coulson immediately suspicious…Melinda May never smiled when she could glare. “Then you’re going to be extremely busy teaching him over the next few months. Other than writing reports and performing mission and student evaluations you have really nothing better to do until your injuries heal, wouldn’t you agree?”

The smile was wiped from Coulson’s face and suddenly he found he wasn’t quite so hungry any more.

***

A few visits later Dr Bell pronounced Coulson fit enough to be able get out of bed and undertake light exercise much to everyone’s relief; a good patient the Demon Slayer was not and he was beginning to get short tempered with everyone. Even Clint and Natasha were limiting their visits with him although with them he was the most tolerant.

Bell approximated the dislocated shoulder would take another eight to ten weeks of rest and gentle exercise before he could consider training to go back in the field again. As much as being incapacitated for so long irritated him, Coulson would comply with the doctor’s orders. He knew if he returned too soon he could be left with a permanent weakness and lack of movement in his shoulder, something a field agent could not afford if he or she wanted to survive when battling the supernatural. The break of his arm would take a few weeks to heal and most of the stitches could come out within a matter of days. With anyone else it would have taken far longer and once again the doctor was amazed at the speed at which the demon slayer’s body was able to recover. That said, to walk around, Coulson had first to be clothed…

“May…” Coulson warned as he rested his hand on her shoulder to balance himself. Agent May was helping him pull on his leathers which was turning out to be not an easy task. Although they were soft and well worn they were like a second skin on him and she was having to wrestle them over the solid muscles of his thighs to say nothing of where they were going next.

“I know, I know. Stay away from your cock! For heavens’ sake, man, you’re obsessed.” At that the two of them snorted out a laugh.

“No, I was actually going to say your elbow’s digging into my ribs.”

“Apologies, Coulson. I’ll be more careful,” she said as she moved her positioning slightly to extract her elbow from his cracked and bruised torso. Her cheeks flushed a glorious scarlet at being caught out thinking such puerile thoughts.

Coulson smirked but managed to control the chuckle; the elbow could easily find its way back again or end up somewhere a good deal more painful.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked him thinking back to a year or so ago when the claws of a demon had punctured his ribs and torn down his back which prevented him from wearing anything other than bandages on his torso until the damage healed. It left the eyes with plenty of bare flesh to view and the imagination an idea of what was hidden underneath the strips of cloth. That and the animal-like grace with which he generally moved had been enough to send several impressionable young (and older) agents over the edge.

“Why?”

“The last time you wandered around the place with just your leathers on injuries doubled…and tripled in some cases. There!” May straightened up and nudged his leg with her knee making it buckle.

Pulling himself upright again and tapping her shin with his bare foot, he frowned at May looking confused. “Why would the injury rate go up?”

She looked back at him trying to read his face and seeing nothing there that would make her think he was jesting she asked, “You really don’t know, do you?”

“May, you’re talking in riddles. I can see no correlation between my leathers and…” he stopped suddenly and it was his turn for his cheeks to flush as it finally dawned on him as to her meaning.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Well in that case yes, it’s a good idea. If they’re going to be distracted by something so trivial then they deserve any injuries they get.”

May shook her head as she followed him out of his room with Fury beside her. She looked down at the wolf and smirked; he really had no idea!

***

After calling by the kitchen for a pouch of apple and carrot pieces he headed for the stables to see Triskelion (injury numbers one and two – as he strode from the kitchen, the scullery maid couldn’t take her eyes off him and walked into the cook who sliced her finger. The maid followed that with dropping the stack of plates she was carrying onto her foot amidst much cursing and slapping from said cook).

Fury disappeared into the nearby woods for a long run understanding his presence generally had an adverse affect on the horses; not all of them were as calm as Triskelion. Coulson slid open the stall door and entered to a whinny from the horse. He smiled and when he reached her he pressed his nose against hers holding an apple piece to her mouth which she happily accepted. He rubbed her neck as she chewed and spoke gently to her.

“Hello, my girl. How have you been? Have you missed me?” Triskelion blew into his hand, her lips tickling the palm as she searched for more treats. “Ah, it’s like that?” and he fed her a piece of carrot.  “Have those two rapscallions hiding above your stall been bothering you when they’re not exasperating me?” He grinned at the indignant huff followed by “Idiot!” which came from the rafters above him. Natasha and Clint dropped into the stall.

Clint looked up at him and, with hands on hips, demanded “Does Agent May know you’re here?” Natasha rolled her eyes and Coulson raised an eyebrow.

“Contrary to popular belief I don’t have to clear my every movement with Agent May.” He paused a beat then continued much to Clint’s glee, “And yes she does.”

Natasha asked her own question, “How did you know we were there?”

“I wouldn’t be much of an agent if I didn’t.”

Natasha thought for a moment then nodded her agreement; it was a reasonable explanation.

“Would you like to see round the place?”

“We’ve been,” Clint advised him.

“Ah, then you know everything we do here.”

Clint realised his mistake. Coulson was offering to show them round. “Well, maybe not _everything_ ,” he conceded.

He gave the children a piece of apple and carrot which they fed to Triskelion before he gave her one last pat and left the stable with them.

“What happens to her when you can’t ride?” Clint asked.

“May or Hill will exercise her.”

“Does no-one else take her away with them? I’ve seen people come with one horse and leave with another.”

“Triskelion belongs to me and everyone knows that; she wouldn’t work so well for anyone else, she and I are used to each other.”

“What about Ward?”

“What about him?”

“Does he exercise her?”

“No. Only May or Hill, sometimes Blake.” Coulson hid his amusement as Clint fell silent apparently satisfied at his response. Hill was right; there was definitely an issue between Clint and Ward that would have to be watched.

Coulson led the children to one of the outbuildings where a lot of yells and thumps emanated. He opened the door and peered in catching the eye of the instructor. He bowed to her and indicated that he had visitors and the instructor, a small lady who reminded Clint of May, nodded back granting him permission to enter. He opened the door further and Natasha and Clint crossed the threshold to see several agents of differing ages and genders trying to throw or punch each other. They were very good at avoiding the blows until two of them allowed themselves to be distracted by Coulson (injury numbers three and four as Maria was punched in the eye by Jasper much to her annoyance and embarrassment, and a young male agent was knocked to the floor and left winded by his opponent). Coulson shook his head; apparently May was correct about his attire or perhaps lack thereof.

“What are they doing?” whispered Natasha.

“Learning how to attack and defend themselves without a weapon; it’s called hand-to-hand combat.”

“Why?”

“So that if they lose their weapon and they’re attacked when they’re in the field, they’ll know what to do.”

Both children nodded, Coulson was good at explaining. They watched for a while longer before moving onto the next outbuilding (incident numbers five, six and seven – the male agent who had been knocked down earlier was floored a further three times. Coulson would have to have words with the instructor about him - or perhaps not as he watch the tiny woman gesticulate at the fallen agent who jumped to his feet and stood, head bowed and shame-faced before he closed the door on them).

He took keys from the belt that lay across his leathers and opened the next door wide letting the children enter first. As he followed he flicked a sign on the door from green to red indicating the room was in use with live ammunition. It was a wise and necessary safety precaution to ensure that no-one entered while training was ongoing. “This is the armoury and practice room,” he told them. At one end there were swords, staffs, maces, archery bows, crossbows, guns and rifles. The rest of the room was made up of lanes with compacted straw targets, called bosses, at the other end.

“This is the armoury where we keep the weapons.” He gestured to the lanes. “This is also where we learn to use them and practice every day.” He led them over to the weapon racks. “I don’t want you to touch anything yet but if you were to choose one, which would it be?”

Without hesitation Clint pointed to an archery bow. Natasha took more time to consider before deciding on a set of triple barrelled revolving handguns. Coulson nodded interested in their choices. “Why?” he asked. At that moment neither of them could tell him just that they were drawn to them.  

He picked up the handgun first and checked it to see that the cylinder and barrels were empty and showed them both they were indeed without ammunition. “You must _always_ check your weapon to see that it’s not loaded before you use it and _always_ empty and clean it at the end of practice. And even if it isn’t loaded you must _never_ point it at a person. Do you know why?”

The children thought for a moment then Clint nodded to Natasha who answered, “Lest you hurt someone without meaning to.”

Coulson smiled. “Excellent.”

Although it wasn’t easy loading the gun with one hand, Coulson managed it well. Besides it was good practice should he be injured in the field and had to rely on reloading one-handed. He walked over to a lane and ensuring the children were well behind him, he fired 3 rounds at the target. Straw flew into the air from the holes made by the bullets where they struck.

“You got three in the very centre!” gasped Clint. Coulson frowned at him.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

Clint frowned back, “Because I can see them.” Coulson was fairly certain the boy was correct, he was a good shot, but he certainly couldn’t see the holes from where they were standing. If he really could see the boy truly had exceptional eyesight.

“Natasha, there are three bullets left. Would you like to fire them?” She raised both her eyebrows at him and trying not to show her excitement, calmly walked towards him. He explained how to stand, hold the gun with her finger off the trigger, then how to sight down the barrel and aim at the target, that she should centre herself by breathing in then out slowly then, when she was ready, gently press the trigger remembering to breathe. He also told her to expect that the gun would jump in her hand after she fired it; was called recoil.

Making sure Clint was behind them he handed her the gun. It was much heavier than she expected and her arm dropped slightly. She looked back at Coulson who nodded encouragingly. She took up the stance Coulson had shown her with her finger to the side of the trigger and sighted down the barrel to the target. She breathed in and out a few times then pulled the trigger. The gun bucked as some straw leapt out of the target.

“I can’t see where you hit it,” said Clint. “Oh wait, it was on the edge, just off the target.”

Natasha frowned annoyed that she’d missed. “Don’t be angry, Natasha. You did well, most people it the back wall first time. Try again, if you wish.”

Natasha rolled her shoulders and repeated the process and this time she it the first white ring on edge of the target. Clint whooped but Natasha didn’t react. On her last attempt she hit the second black ring and only then did she permit herself a small smile.

“Well done Natasha. That was excellent.” She opened the cylinder as Coulson had taught her and gave it back to him her face still once again. Coulson checked it again and placed the gun on the table in order for it to be cleaned later. He then lifted a small archery bow from the stand. He gave it to Clint and retrieved three arrows. Once again he explained how to use the weapon, much of it being similar to the gun except for how to nock an arrow and how it would feel when he pulled back the string, especially the tension in his arms and shoulders if he held at full draw.

On first attempt, the arrow fell out of the bow landing at Clint’s feet. He stared in utter disbelief and disappointment. However, like Natasha, he refused to give up and tried again. This time the arrow sailed a few feet and fell to the ground. He turned to Coulson his mouth open in silent protest. It took all Coulson’s control not to lose it at the boy’s expression but knowing how crushed the boy would be if he laughed, he managed. Instead he placed his hand on the boy’s right shoulder as he favoured the string in his left and calmly and quietly talked him through firing the arrow.

“Clint, relax. Take a deep breath in and hold it…then let it out. Look at your target. Nock the arrow only when you’re ready to release; don’t hold at full draw for too long.” When Coulson felt Clint’s shoulders relax he took a step back beside Natasha and let Clint do the rest himself. This time the arrow sailed true and landed in the line between the black and blue rings. All three of them grinned.

“Good, Clint. Well done.”

He repeated the process and the arrow landed fully in the second blue ring. With his final arrow Clint ready himself and released the arrow this time missing the target and fortunately, also missing Sitwell although it was a close run thing. Clint had been ready to loose the arrow when the armoury door opened and Sitwell entered. Distracted by the movement, Clint had turned just as he released and the arrow embedded itself not an inch from the agent’s head. Both the boy’s and the man’s expressions were identical their mouth’s forming an ‘O’ of surprise and shock.

“Fuck!” Sitwell cried out before pulling the door closed and staying outside.

Clint dropped the bow and turned to Coulson his face full of apology and horro at almost doing what Coulson had told him never to do. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered and began to shake.

Coulson immediately knelt down and pulled the boy towards him pressing his forehead against Clint’s. Keeping his voice soft and quiet he talked to him about the different things they had seen today, praised him on his exceptional eyesight, and commended him on the excitement he showed for Natasha when she it the boss. Finally he congratulated him on his skill with the bow, that what had happened with Sitwell was Sitwell’s fault; he should never have entered when there was live training going on. Slowly, Clint began to calm and when the shaking subsided, Coulson instructed him to put the bow back in its place and for the two of them to wait where they were until he returned for them.

“Fuck, sir! He damn near killed me!”

Coulson spoke to Sitwell, the perfectly calm yet chilly tone of his voice making the junior agent suddenly very afraid. “The first words out of your mouth should have been. “I’m sorry, sir for my transgression. Is Clint well?””

“But…”

“Did you or did you not seen the red sign?”

Sitwell’s eyes flicked towards it. Fuck for some reason, no he hadn’t. Dumbly he shook his head.

“Then you are more of an idiot than I would have believed you to be. We will discuss the issue later. In the meantime I have a boy who may be too afraid to pick up a bow again. I hope for your sake it is not the case. Make your report.”

“There has been an account that one of the children in the village has disappeared.”

“When?”

“A few hours ago.”

“Find out all there is to know and report back to my chambers within the hour.” Coulson turned to go back to the armoury.

“Sir?”

He paused before opening the door and waited.

“I apologise for putting the boy in that situation. It was a lapse in judgement on my behalf and it won’t happen again. I will happily spend some time with him if you think it will help him get over what happened.”

Coulson nodded. “Dismissed, Agent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks, once again the story got away from me - this chapter's a biggie! Hopefully you'll still enjoy it though.


	7. Chapter 7

When Coulson returned to the armoury he found the children sitting on the floor, Natasha holding onto Clint as he sobbed into her shoulder. His heart clenched as he watched her stroking his hair whispering softly to him as perhaps her mother would have done to her before she was abandoned like an unwanted dog in the woods. He felt like he was intruding on a private moment between the two of them and, uncertain what else to do, he stood where he was leaning against the door waiting for the worst of the tears to pass. He had no real experience with children, any training he did was generally aimed at junior agents rather than new recruits and a sobbing child was out with his comfort zone. Give him a fifth level demon any day.

At last the sobs reduced to whimpers then to hiccoughs and finally to sniffs. Natasha glanced up at Coulson, glad that he had stayed away for the worst of Clint’s emotional outburst for she knew the boy would be ashamed if he’d known the agent was watching.

Coulson pushed himself off the wall and walked over to them. He crouched beside them and although his words were kind, his tone was calm and slightly detached in the belief that it would help Clint compose himself. “Okay, my little Hawkeye, time to go. We’ll come back again in the morrow and get some more practice in.”

Clint sniffed and shook his head. “No,” he whispered.

“Why? Because of what happened with Sitwell?”

Clint nodded. Fuck! I will _end_ Jasper fucking Sitwell thought Coulson. What to do now? He’d learned his lesson from a few days ago with trying to get Clint to write Stark a note, so he certainly wasn’t going to push him on this. He knelt on one knee and faced the boy.

“Very well, Clint. If that’s what you decide, then so be it. But it would be shame to waste the talent you showed with the bow because of one mistake that wasn’t your fault nor was it Sitwell’s – it was mine.”

Both Clint and Natasha looked at him confused. Clint sniffed again. “Why was it your fault?”

“Well, if someone makes a mistake under my supervision, then I am at fault. It was my responsibility to make sure no-one entered while you and Natasha were practising. It was your very first time using the bow and I should have considered more carefully that you could be distracted if someone crossed the threshold while you used it. I could have locked the door or I could have had someone stand outside to stop another from coming in.”

“Wasn’t that what the red sign was for?” asked Natasha.

Once again, some people were too clever for their own good – she had him there. It’s exactly what it was for and Sitwell was experienced enough to know that.

“Yes, Natasha it is.”

“Then surely Sitwell should have known that.” Too clever by half!

“Yes, he should however he was distracted by having to give me some urgent information. It’s not an excuse, he really should have known better but it is a reason.”

“Not a very good one,” muttered Clint. Coulson chewed the inside of his cheek trying not to laugh. He waited until the urge passed then spoke again.

“Perhaps not. I propose an arrangement; I will respect your wishes if you decide not to continue with practice but I only ask that you sleep on it. If your mind is still made up in the morning then, I understand.” He stood up and the children stood with him. “We need to go now. I have to attend to a S.H.I.E.L.D. matter that has arisen.”

“Is it the information Sitwell brought you?”

“It is.”

“What is it?”

“That’s really no concern of yours, Clint.”

“You know that we’ll find out anyway.”

Coulson raised an eyebrow. “ _Really_? Well not from me.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Idiot,” she muttered.

Clint sighed. It was overdue he supposed; she hadn’t called him that since the stables.

***

Coulson headed for his chambers and waited for the others to arrive. As he passed the time he considered what to do if the boy decided not to learn more about S.H.I.E.L.D. It would be tough on the organisation as he knew they would be excellent additions in a few years once they had been trained. Natasha especially seemed to have the intelligence and some of the skills to become an exceptional agent but he had a feeling that she would not proceed without Clint. Clint was by no means stupid merely disadvantaged but this could be overcome with time and patience although whether the boy’s or his teachers’ he couldn’t say. Once again Natasha would be most likely to handle him in this regard.

If the answer was no, they could not stay here indefinitely unless they were agreeable to doing work that was not S.H.I.E.L.D. related but he didn’t think either of them would be satisfied with kitchen or stable work, which meant finding somewhere else for them to live. Other than the orphanage, where the conditions were often overcrowded and unpleasant, he was at a loss what to do with them. He couldn’t abandon them; he found them, he brought them here and that made him responsible for them. Damn his life sometimes!

His mind wandered on to his next task if Clint and Natasha _did_ decide to stay they had to be schooled. Unfortunately, Sitwell had put a stop to his discussing that with them. This would be the biggest obstacle for Clint. Not just teaching him to read and write but getting him to _want_ to read and write. He would have to speak to one or two of the scholars to hear what they suggest. There was one way but he wasn’t certain if that would come back to haunt him one day. He would discuss it with May. And as though summoned by his thoughts, she appeared followed soon after by Hill, Blake and Sitwell.

***

“’We’ll find out about it anyway?’” Natasha glared at him as they headed back to Trikselion’s stall. Coulson had given them the pouch and permission to feed her the remainder of the apples and carrots.

“It just came out!” Clint protested.

“You talk too much.”

“I know.” He sighed. It was usually what his father or brother said before they struck him. Thus far physical punishment didn’t seem to be the rule here. With the exception Natasha’s cuffs to the back of his head he hadn’t been beaten once even having nearly pierced Sitwell accidentally with an arrow. Not that it being an accident would have made any difference if he’d been at home; had he done it there he would have raw and bloody by now. He shuddered.

“What are we going to do?” he asked Natasha.

“What are _you_ going to do,” she corrected.

Clint turned to her suddenly afraid that she would leave him. She pushed him and smiled. “I won’t leave you, Little Hawkeye. Where you go, I go. But you need to decide if you want to be like Coulson or if you want to be a stable boy. If you want to be like Coulson it will probably mean we’ll have to do a lot of things we don’t want to and you will have to get over what happened in the armoury but at the end of it we can kill as many witches as we want.”

“Why can’t we do that now?”

“Duh! What are we going to kill them with?”

Duh indeed. “So we stay and train and do everything Coulson wants us to do.”

“And May.”

“And May.”

As they spoke they took turns feeding and grooming Triskelion who was delighted to have both done at the same time.

“He won’t be here much longer.”

“He will.”

“No, he won’t. He’s already getting restless.”

“But he’ll be here for ages yet. It’s going to take along time for his arm to get better.”

“Maybe but…” and whatever else she was going to say was lost by a familiar and indignant voice at the stall door.

 “Heeeey! What are you doing? That’s my job.”

“We have Coulson’s permission,” replied Clint holding up the pouch.

“More likely you stole it.”

“The fuck you say, pretty boy.”

“Fuck you, guttersnipe.”

Clint flew at the bigger boy and knocked him into the passageway between the stalls. He sat on him getting in a few good punches before he was unceremoniously lifted by the scruff of his neck. He wriggled until he realised it was Sitwell who was holding him and then he stood stalk still. Ward picked himself off the ground.

“After earlier today, I’d have thought you’d have stayed away from trouble, boy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” the boys said simultaneously.

“You, guttersnipe, what happened.” Sitwell called to Natasha. Ward grinned. Other than narrowing her eyes Natasha didn’t move but continued to groom Triskelion. So that’s where Ward had gotten the name. She remembered him calling her that after he’d just missing being run through in the kitchen as he’d entered when she threw the knife. He had a habit of appearing at the wrong moment. She’d have to watch that in future.

He dropped Clint and turned to Natasha. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you speaking but my name is not ‘guttersnipe’.”

“Your name is whatever I say it is until you show a little respect and earn a proper name.”

Sitwell froze when he heard snarling coming from behind him. It was Fury and if the wolf was there, Coulson wouldn’t be far behind. Sure enough…

“Is there a problem, Agent Sitwell?”

 “No, sir.”

“Then why isn’t Ward saddling the horses?”

“I was just telling him to do so.”

“Then perhaps you should both get on with it. Clint, Natasha – with me.”

“He won’t always be here,” hissed Ward as they passed him.

“I don’t need him here to floor you, stable boy.”

“Again?” Coulson said quietly as the the four of them walked back to the main house.

Natasha and Clint tried their best to look innocent but it wasn’t fooling the Demon Slayer nor the wolf. In his experience the more innocent the look, the more guilty the demon…or person.

“I believe there was an earlier altercation between you and Ward.” Clint huffed out a protest. “Yes, I find out about things too. This business with you two, if you stay here, it has to stop. Do you think demons or witches won’t try to make you angry to distract you, to weaken you? They’ll be better at it too, and if you can’t learn to control your emotions, Clint…” he left the rest unsaid. Clint hung his head as they walked. Natasha watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye but he ignored her and seemed to be thinking about what Coulson was saying. Good.

“While I’m being crotchety there’s something else you should know – what we do here, the end result is being able to hunt and slay supernatural forces where it’s required. We also have to know how to investigate claims of witchcraft and demon attacks amongst other things. I can’t tell you how important it is to recognise the difference between a false accusation and a true claim. We have to be capable of planning an attack to ensure minimum casualties on our side and to do that we learn by documenting our cases and reviewing them against similar incidents.” He took a deep breath.

…and here it comes, thought Natasha.

“To do that we have to be able to read and write.”

There was a deathly silence before Coulson continued. “I thought it was best that you knew everything in advance of making your decision. It would not be fair for me to let you know of this afterwards. Best that you are fully informed now and if it makes a difference to you then…well…that’s…” He was beginning to babble now. Probably best to be silent. “I can help you while I am here. Give you extra lessons…when…if…you should wish…perhaps.” Yes probably best to stay silent now.

They had reached his chambers where discussion had taken place earlier with regard to the missing child. “I have to review some papers we have which are akin to this latest occurrence. You are welcome to stay with me or you may explore the grounds but for now I don’t want you going back to the stables. Is that understood?”

Both children smiled beatifically at him. “Nor do I wish you seeking out Ward to perform some mischief on him.” The smiles dimmed a little. “And leave Agent Sitwell alone.” And the smiles were all but extinguished.

“May as well stay here then,” Clint groused dropping himself into a chair, curling up as though to sleep. Natasha sat beside Coulson and watched him as he worked; it wasn’t as distracting as he thought it would be.

***

The others congregated in Coulson’s chambers barely 30 minutes later; it was mid-afternoon with little daylight remaining. They were packed up, armed and ready to leave. Coulson gave May the notes he had made and she reviewed nodding as she read. The report was succinct and excellent as always and she passed them to Blake next. “You’re sure about this?” he asked giving the papers to Hill.

“As I can be with the time we have. Either we wait until morning until I can do more research or we leave now and take our chances.”

“We?” asked May.

“Force of habit, I assure you. I promised I would stay here and I shall. I would be more of a hindrance than a help as I am. But if you are leaving I suggest you go now, time is of the essence and daylight will be gone in but a few hours. If there is no sign by sundown I want you to turn and find shelter if you cannot return here.  We can try again in the morrow. Is that understood?” They nodded.

He looked to Sitwell, “The horses should be ready, yes?”

The junior agent nodded. “Then ride safe and good hunting, agents.”

_Lost girl – Gretchen Haƒmanƒtorper, 9 years of age – suspect witch abduction – child un-baptised – parents aware of witches in the area? – last seen at Wynding crossroads, 5 miles outside town, why? – strip of sacking at where child last seen along with sprig of herbs – similar incidents six, twelve and eighteen months ago – pattern of six-month intervals – doorway into spirit wor…_

“So, _you_ can read...” Natasha’s head shot up at Coulson’s words – she blushed annoyed and angry that she’d been caught reading his notes. He sat down in his chair again. “Are you worried?” She nodded. “We’re good at what we do, Natasha. If we can get her back, we will.”

“If you can’t?”

“Then we hunt the witch down.”

“We’ll stay. We’ll become Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head the looked over at Clint who was watching them. “I know you will, both of you.”

***

Coulson started awake clutching his shoulder and cursed…the children and his notes were gone and so was the wolf.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, time to say goodbye to mini Clint and Natasha as this is the last chapter with them (unless someone can think of a good reason for them to remain a bit like the Lost Boys from Never Never Land). But in order for us to get to the Holy Trinity of Hot they have to grow up and for the next chapter or two they will be The Teenagers of Terror. If you think they were bad as twelve-year olds, you ain't seen nothing yet! And there will be a few new characters arriving too. Plus some more of our favourite leather-clad demon slayer complete with tattoos and broad, sexy, hairy chest (sorry, I couldn't help myself!).
> 
> Ever wondered what a wolf thinks about? Then wonder no more as Fury, the one-eyed black wolf gets his own tale (or is it tail) to tell in chapter eight.

“Should we take Triskelion?”

“No.”

“But _you_ said the map in Coulson’s notes said it was five miles to the crossroads.”

“Yes.”

“But that’s ages away and the others will get there first.”

Natasha sighed. “First of all, you’re kind of whining; don’t! It’s annoying. Second it’s not a race; if the others find her and save her that’s the best thing that can happen. And third, do you really want to have Coulson angry at you for taking his horse without permission?” Clint shook his head, realising the wisdom in her words. “He’s going to be mad enough as it is once he finds out where we’ve gone. Besides the others will be taking to the roads. According to Coulson’s map there’s a shortcut through the woods, that’s the route we’re taking. Oh, do you have your medicine?”

Clint looked panicked and searched all round his body before grinning and holding up a bottle and a syringe – he was wearing his sugar monitor on his wrist as always. Natasha shook her head at him and smiled. And then she froze. Clint stopped beside her and didn’t speak.

Eventually Clint whispered, “What is it?”

“I can hear breathing.”

Clint strained his ears and although he could hear nothing he didn’t doubt Natasha. This was a routine they’d followed when they were together in the woods before Coulson found them and it served them well helping them avoid a troll and two boggarts on different occasions.

“Should we wait or keep going?”

“Keep going.” And the children headed off again. A few moments later Natasha stopped, tilted her head to the side and listened again. Clint’s eyes widened. He could hear it too this time. It was a panting sound but this time it was accompanied by footsteps very soft but definitely there. They ducked down in the undergrowth and shrubbery and tried to get control of their own breathing. With luck, although they could hear it, it couldn’t here them. Natasha silently unsheathed her knife and Clint held up the one he took from the Gingerbread Hag and they waited with hearts pounding in their chests. The panting changed to a snuffling and suddenly a wet nose appeared under the bush in which they were hiding followed by a muzzle and finally by the black head of a one-eyed wolf.

“Fury! Go home!” hissed Natasha.

The one eye glared at her but made no move to withdraw. He was not some obedient hound to be given orders to blindly follow. He was a wolf and wolves did as they saw fit and in his mind this pair needed watching. As Coulson couldn’t come himself, he would want Fury to follow them to make sure they didn’t get into trouble.

Clint gulped. “Is Coulson with you?”

The wolf rolled his one good eye. He was a damn clever wolf and could understand every word that came out the little human’s mouths but the one thing he couldn’t do was speak. He blew out his cheeks in a sigh and even Clint could read the disappointment in the beast’s face.

He turned to Natasha. “He’s calling me an idiot, isn’t he?”

Natasha looked at him with an almost identical expression to the wolf. Clint breathed out a heavy sigh himself.

“I _know_ he can’t speak but I thought he could maybe paw the ground or something; one paw for yes, two paws for no.”

Fury stared at Clint and very slowly, making his feelings perfectly clear at how ridiculous he thought this was, he pawed the ground twice. He didn’t need to do this shit for Coulson. He’d have fucked off long before now if he had!

Natasha snorted out a laugh and stood up putting her knife away. “Sorry Fury,” she told him. “He means well.”

And the odd little trio of two children and a huge wolf continued towards Wynding Crossroads.

***

“Fuck!” Coulson shouted and lurched from his seat almost knocking it over in his anger and frustration. He hissed with the pain that ran through his body from cheekbone to ribs and everything in between. He should probably take another draft of the medicine Bell left for him but as he was certain that had a part to play in his falling asleep he decided not to. The pain would keep him sharp and right now he needed all his wits about him.

There were two options: 1) the children hadn’t liked the idea of having to spend so much time learning to they’d decided to run off and 2) the much more likely scenario, they had gone to find the missing child themselves. Either way he was furious, not only with them but with himself for falling asleep and giving them the opportunity to sneak off. He wasn’t even sure how much of a head start they would have over him or what route they would take. If it were him and he was on foot he’d go through the woods, it was at least and mile and a half shorter and they’d be less likely to be seen by May, Hill and Blake. If he saddled Triskelion now…

Coulson took a deep breath, held it and let it out slowly. He couldn’t. He couldn’t go after them and leave the safe house with no senior agent. There had to be one here at all times and right now he was it. There were too many lives he was responsible for other than two unruly children. He would have to wait it out and pray they came back safely.

***

“Well we’re here, so what now?”

“Now we wait.” And she sat down with her back to the post. Clint did likewise and rubbed his stomach.

“Should have brought some food,” he groaned.

Natasha reached into the pocket of her dress and handed him an apple and a chicken leg. His face lit up immediately and he grinned at her in thanks. She took the same out of her other pocket and the two of them started to munch the food. She tore a strip of chicken off for Fury but he didn’t take it. He knew the children would need all their strength it their plan, such as he could figure it, was realised.

-          _Fury’s thoughts on_ **‘The Plan’: Sit at crossroads – wait for witch – get taken to witch’s lair – kill witch – rescue child – get home.** _It was perfect, not to mention childlike, in its simplicity, Coulson would probably be proud; but it was equally perfect, not to mention childlike, in its stupidity no-one knew where they were (except him and maybe by now Coulson), there was no back up (except him) and no extraction plan (see one and two) not forgetting two fairly important points he figured, even if a witch did appear, how did they know it was the same one and that she would take them to the same place? _

He nudged Natasha with his nose and loped into the undergrowth with just his nose poking out. It wouldn’t help the plan if he was there if the witch should indeed appear. She nodded understanding, in her original plan she hadn’t accounted for the wolf anyway so it was better if he remained hidden.

Dusk was beginning to fall when they heard a rhythmic crashing coming from the woods. Fury tensed in the bushes and the children huddled together pretending to be asleep. The crashing stopped and a crone walked towards them sniffing the air.

“Are you alright, little ones,” her voice dripping with fake concern. Clint and Natasha pretended to wake yawning and rubbing their eyes.

-          _Fury barely held back a whine; it was like fucking village theatre. Still stages one and two of ‘_ **The Plan’** _had worked so who was he to criticise at this point?_

“We were looking for our friend but we got lost and fell asleep,” Clint told her.

“Oh dear! And who is your friend?”

“Gretchen Haƒmanƒtorper, she’s nine,” replied Natasha.

 “Oh that’s very sad. And what are your names?”

“He’s Hansel and I’m Gretel.”

“Well now, what a coincidence. I was speaking to your parents earlier and they are stuck in the next village. They asked me to look out for you and if I was to see you I was to take you back to my house for you to wait for them there.”

-          _Children fell for this shit? Maybe they did deserve to be eaten, survival of the fittest and all that. Or even survival of those with the intelligence the lord gave a squirrel!_

The children made a show of hesitating and deliberating about her invite then gave their response. “No thank you. We’ll wait here for our parents.”

“That’s very sensible, my dears, but I’m afraid I must insist. Edward!”

From the trees a troll emerged complete with a basket on his back. Natasha and Clint squealed and hugged each other only to be scooped up in the troll’s large hand and dropped into the basket one at a time. He set it on his back and lumbered back in the direction from whence they came accompanied by the witch.

“Besides, it’s a good thing I found you when I did. I can smell wolf and I would hate for him to have eaten you before I could. Three children instead of one is a veritable feast!”

-          _Well good goddamn! thought Fury. Stage number three - check. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. should have these two planning their missions._

***

Coulson was trying to read through the piles of reports and assessments on his desk but couldn’t concentrate on them for more than a few moments at a time. He kept alternating between anger and pride at the children’s devious behaviour and bravery. They were going to be a nightmare and would need careful handling when they returned – he refused to think ‘if’. Too harsh and he could break their spirits, too lenient and they would take the piss. He tried to think of a suitable punishment but couldn’t. Agents spent years in training to do exactly what Clint and Natasha were doing by instinct. With the right guidance they could be incredible assets to S.H.I.E.L.D. How could he punish that? The fact that they hadn’t told him stung even though he could understand it. Had they asked, he’d have said no. “Better to seek forgiveness than ask permission” – he forgot who said it but it was apt in their case.

He found himself doodling the alphabet as he thought which gave him an idea and he searched on his bookshelves for some fresh parchment and spend the rest of the night making alphabet cards based around terms of archery Aa – Archer, Bb – Bow, Cc-crossbow and so on. Anywhere he couldn’t get an archery term he would put in something he thought Clint would like such as Ww – wolf. He would ask Steve to illustrate the pages for him to help Clint learn his letters and numbers. Tomorrow he would begin teaching Clint how to read and write.

***

Fury followed from a discrete distance; too close and the witch would smell him but as she and the troll were leaving their own stench he had no problem following them without being seen or indeed scented. Oh! Oh! New smells…squirrel! Fury smacked his lips. Some squirrel would be fine right about now. But with a snort and a shake of his head he continued to pad along the path of the witch and troll.

They’d been travelling for at least two maybe three hours by now and it was pitch black, dusk having long since disappeared. He was beginning to think they would be in the next country when there we have it, my fine ladies and gentlemen, cunningly disguised as a pile of rocks and logs coated with moss and fern was…the witch’s lair. How did he know? Because the smell was shockingly bad! Generally witches had no sense of personal hygiene or originality when it came to lodgings. At least the Gingerbread Hag had a touch of class with that icing and candy and shit! Yes, she had a sense of goddamn style. But this? This was some bat-fowling _nasty_ shit.

The troll dropped the children at the witch’s door where they made a half-hearted attempt to flee before being caught by the witch and dragged inside. Settling down all he had to do now was watch and wait. The first sound of trouble and he’d be there quicker than oozy puss from a boil.

The moon had moved a half way round the sky when all three children burst out of the witch’s house followed by the witch herself. Clint was at the rear of the trio carrying a burning log from the fire which he promptly turned and threw at the crone. As though she were made of kindling, she burst into flames and screamed until there was naught left but ashes.

***

Dawn had risen when Coulson heard the clopping of hooves in the stable yard. He and Sitwell unceremoniously bolted from the kitchen table and raced to the door and joy of joys May, Hill and Blake were there with Natasha, Clint and a third child presumably the missing one.

The three riders dismounted and lifted the children down from the saddles handing their horses over to the stable boy and groom to be taken care of. The children were carried in, with Fury at their heels, and taken to the guest room that Clint and Natasha were currently occupying and laid on the bed. Two of the children were exhausted and filthy but were trying valiantly to keep their eyes open desperate to tell their tale. The third was sound asleep and couldn’t be roused.

After first checking with Hill that they were innocent of any wrong-doing, Coulson gave instructions to Sitwell to organise a rider for the missing child’s parents and for a messenger to fetch Dr Bell. Hill and Blake went to the kitchen to organise food and May watched Coulson as he was hugged enthusiastically by Clint and slightly more demurely by Natasha noting that even in their tired state both of them were careful not to hurt his shoulder.

The two of them babbled to him without making much sense as he tried his best to comprehend what they were saying but eventually he caught the gist of it. Finally after one huge yawn during which Clint nearly swallowed his own head followed in a similar but not quite as frightening manner by Natasha their eyes began to droop.

“Sleep,” he told them. “You’re home safe now.” They nodded and cuddled into each other falling asleep immediately. Coulson turned to May. “Did Clint get his medicine?”

She nodded. “The alarm went off on the way here so we stopped and he injected himself.”

Coulson nodded in return and they left the children to sleep with Fury standing guard. “Shall we debrief over breakfast?”

“Sounds like an excellent idea,” returned May. “It looks as though you may also have a tale to tell.”

May began the narration by telling Coulson when they reached the crossroads they searched it thoroughly finding nothing more in addition to the piece of sacking that was discovered earlier. From there each gave their report to him individually: May had organised hounds and searchers, Hill had spoken to the parents finding them distraught but displaying no signs of any collusion with the witch and Blake had gone to the local sheriff to get more details and organise men for the search. The hounds and searchers had taken longer than expected to organise and by the time they met back at the crossroads with their respective parties it was deemed too dark to be safe to continue.

Blake picked up the next part while May ate. They were going to return to the safe house but decided to spend the night at the village the child was from to gather further information on the witch if anything was known. At dawn the next morning they headed back to the crossroads to find Clint, Natasha and Gretchen accompanied by Fury wandering along the road looking fit to collapse. After bidding the searchers, the sheriff’s men and the hound handlers a quick farewell they rode like the devil himself was after them and well…the rest he knew.

As with all Coulson’s reports it was short and succinct: he fell asleep, the children ran off, he spent the night worrying and making alphabet cards, everyone came home safe, the end. The three agents looked at him then exploded into messy bouts of laughter being as they were eating at the time. He ducked his head and looked up with a somewhat embarrassed grin. The Demon Hunter was the latest to fall victim to the children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read 'Clint and Natasha: Witch Hunters or Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.' so far. I hope you'll continue to watch Clint and Natasha grow up and torment the inhabitants of May's safe house. I would love for you to feed me with suggestions and comments along the way. Everyone's been so positive and I truly appreciate you taking the time to read the story and let me know what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha (otherwise known as the Terrible Twosome) are now fifteen years old. There will still be NO SMUT with the Holy Trinity of Hot until later in the work however there is a hint of a relationship between Coulson and May at this point (don't hate me) but it won't be explicit - saving that for Clint/Coulson/Natasha! I won't change the explicit rating cos it will happen but I will leave it out of the tags for now. 
> 
> Another couple of new characters to add to the mix along with the return of the old favourites (and not so favourite).
> 
> Thanks again for reading and letting me know what you think about this work. I hope you continue to enjoy it. If you'd like to leave comments, I'd love to read them and I'll always respond.

Clint heard someone behind him as he was mucking out the stall in the stables. He spun and threw a grooming brush at the intruder who caught it without blinking.

“Hurt not the wolf boy, he travels with me.”

“Does he?” Where this was once said with awe, it was now said with sarcasm. “And I’m nobody’s boy, old man.”

The man in leather grinned. “No, not anymore. What happened to the little rat I left here a few months ago on my last visit?”

“I grew…again…and it was nine months ago. Sometimes, Coulson, I believe you have no concept of time.”

“And using such large words too.”

“Fuck off!”

“There’s my little Hawkeye,” he said affectionately.

A wide smile on his face, Clint walked towards Coulson and wrapped his arms round him in a tight hug. The Demon Slayer rested his chin on the boy’s head and as he returned the embrace he called softly, “You can come down now, Natasha.”

Silently a flame haired figure dropped down from the rafters and walked over to the pair. Reluctantly Clint pulled away from the older man and Natasha took his place resting her head against his shoulder. He sighed, three years ago, she barely reached his chest.

“How did you know I was there?”

“I wouldn’t be much of an agent if I didn’t.”

She flashed her all too rare smile at him and buried her face in his neck breathing him in then pulled away feeling grounded again. Nine months for him to be away was too long. She missed him; they missed him. And truth be told, he missed them too.

“So why are you mucking out this time?”

“Punishment,” Natasha answered for Clint, slapping the back of his head. He glared at her and rubbed the site of impact.

Coulson looked at her and together they said, “Ward.”

“Heeeey!” protested the boy. “I am standing right in front of you both. And anyway it was worth it. He was being an onion-eyed foot-licker!”

Coulson screwed up his face at the colourful insult. “Eww! I never thought you would make me regret making those alphabet cards for you but by all things sacred, you just did!”

Clint snorted out a laugh.

“Dare I ask what you did?”

The boy pursed his lips in thought before answering, “Probably best not. Although it did involve a bucket of horse piss, feathers and…”

“You’re correct, I don’t want to know. However if you _are_ on stable duty I know of a rather fine lady who wouldn’t mind saying hello to you although honestly I have no idea why.”

Clint’s eyes lit up; Triskelion. “Where is she? Is Fury with her?”

“Waiting impatiently in the yard and yes he is and he’s tired so don’t piss him off,” Clint clapped Coulson on the shoulders with both hand and bounced outside. Natasha rolled her eyes at him. “Idiot,” she told Coulson.

“Walk with me?” he asked her. She nodded and strode beside him arms just touching. He’d already removed his saddlebags from the horse and picked them up having dropped them at the stall door. “I am going to bathe, eat and sleep.”

“You’ll be lucky,” Clint informed him as he led Triskelion into the stables leaving Fury outside after having a one-sided conversation with the wolf. Coulson frowned at him obviously not understanding his meaning. “Awww, sir! I’m touched that you came to see me and my fellow agent-in-training before you spoke with Agent May. Which means I have the regrettable duty of informing you…”

“Clint, be gentle,” warned Natasha.

He smirked at her. “…of informing you, Agent Hand has taken over your room.”

Coulson’s frowned deepened. “Why?”

“Hmmm, no-one knew when you were coming home; you and your mysterious ways! Never mind, you could always bunk with Tasha and I.”

“No thanks, you break wind in your sleep,” retorted Coulson.

Clint was indignant. “I do not.”

“Hmmm, must be Natasha then.”

She punched his arm, “I’d forgotten how completely unfunny you two are when you get together.”

“Fine! I’m gone for five minutes and already my room has been rented to another. Fine state of affairs for a…”

“Senior Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Demon Slayer and Rescuer of Obnoxious Children” recited Clint and Natasha together.

Coulson laughed and walked to the main house to find out where he _was_ going to be bunking.

***

“Coulson! You have returned, sir!”

If it had been anyone else they would have received an acerbic response, however as it was Dr Bell he was greeted with courtesy and cheer.

“I have doctor. You are looking well.” And he shook the man’s proffered hand.

“I _am_ well. And you appear to be walking under your own steam. Wonders will never cease! Coulson, may I introduce you to my son, Daniel.”

Coulson held out his hand to the other man. “Mister Bell,” he said.

“Doctor,” he quietly corrected the agent shaking his hand.

Coulson smiled easily and nodded, “My apologies doctor,” he acknowledged. “You are a physician like your father?”

“I am sir. And I believe you are the famous Demon Slayer that I hear so much about.”

Coulson shook his head folding his arms over his chest, dipping his head self-consciously and looking up at the physician’s son with a gentle smile. “No, that will be some other. I’m the one that your father practices his skills on, on a regular basis.”

As they spoke there was a sound of a horse trotting into the yard and a loud whinny when it came skidding to a halt. A man with a huge smile from ear to ear jumped off and shouted to everyone in the yard (and more than likely those at the farthest end of the main house also) “STOP YOUR GRINNIN’ AND DROP YOUR LINEN! JOHN GARRETT HAS ARRIVED TO SERVICE YOUR WOMEN!”

Coulson dropped his head in his hand and groaned. “And I was wondering if this day could get worse. Gentlemen, please forgive me and allow me to take my leave of you before we have need of your services; it’s very possible someone may give our loud friend here a fist to the face…again. Dr Bell it was a pleasure to meet you.”

He turned and called as strolled over to the man standing with hands on hips and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Garrett, could you be more vociferous?”

“I’m sure I could, Coulson, if I knew what the fuck it meant!”

“It means you’re an unmuzzled flap-mouthed lewdster!”

“Ah now that I am, Coulson, that I am. And I see you’re large as life and twice as ugly.”

“Compared to you I’m positively brimming with good looks and charm.”

The two men shook hands before Garrett pulled Coulson into a bear hug as he slapped him hard on the back several times; he'd most likely feel it in the morning. Coulson held his ground knowing it was normal behaviour for the other senior agent even though he was as annoying as the devil himself.

Agent May stood beside the two doctors and further apologised to them.

“I’m sorry – I had no idea Agent Garrett was coming here today, or any other day for that matter. If I had I would have evacuated all of the women and half of the men from here. I suggest you go to Coulson’s chambers until we get him into the kitchen otherwise he will show you every injury he’d ever sustained and ask your opinion. Dr Bell, Daniel, good day.”

Garrett saw her from his place by his horse and in front of Coulson. “Hey! Agent May! Are you still fucking this old dog?”

Coulson reached over and grasped the back of Garrett’s neck pulling him close. To anyone watching it looked like two friends taking quietly but the grip Coulson had on Garrett’s neck told another story; it was painful, excruciating even.

“Enough,” Coulson told him, his voice icily calm in the other man’s ear. “Have a care with the way you speak to her or any other, my friend. I have no great concern as to the way you address me but I will have a quarrel with you if you disrespect any others, especially May.”

Garrett grimaced at the grip Coulson had on him but as a parting shot before he was eventually allowed to pull away he sneered, “So you _are_ still fucking then? Is she as good as they say?” He laughed and held up is hands in a placating gesture knowing he’d overstepped the boundary. “I jest, old friend. In poor taste perhaps but I jest.”

“You always were a damned fool,” he growled as May joined them standing by Coulson.

“So May, which one of your boys is going to take care of Hydra for me?”

Before May could speak Ward approached, hoping to ingratiate himself with the new agent. He’d heard talk amongst the students that sometimes senior agents took on junior agents or in some exceptional circumstances even recruits as an apprentice. He’d met Hand a few days earlier and they didn’t seem to hit it off so he was hoping that this new one might take him on – anything to move him upwards and onwards and away from here.  

He threw the reins to Ward. “Thanks, son, but be careful with her. Like most of my women…she bites. Now where can a man get some beer, food and maybe a wench or two?”

“That would be the local tavern; you’ll only get beer and food here,” May told him.

He looked over at the scullery maid who was making her way back through the yard to the kitchen making no secret of eyeing up Garrett. He grinned over at her then smirked back at May, “Don’t be too sure, honey britches. Some people like my style.” And he sidled up to maid wrapping his arm around her shoulders telling her all about himself as she giggled like a schoolgirl.

May and Coulson looked at each other and said at exactly the same time, “We need to talk.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Geeky_MikaBoo with her colourful description of what Coulson believes either May or Hand is going to do with Garrett and his meat and two veg. Made me laugh but cringe at the same time. Still going by how universally hated Garrett appears to be (thanks for all your comments by the way) you'll probably get a kick out of it.

Advising the doctors Bell it was now safe for them to leave without being accosted by Garrett, May and Coulson swiftly saw them off without appearing too rude and as she closed the door to Coulson’s chambers behind her May said, “He cannot stay here, Coulson.”

Coulson nodded. “I agree.”

“He’s a disruptive influence; he’s vile; he offends almost everyone male and female…”

Coulson nodded again. “I completely agree.”

“…and if I have to listen to him asking if we’re fucking on more time...”

“May, I swear he’ll be gone first thing tomorrow morning, sooner if it can be achieved. You know if he wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent he’d be gone already.” This time she nodded understanding the S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house obligation that it must give a fellow agent sanctuary and hospitality for at least one day and one night in order for him to rest safely and without fear before travelling onwards. He gently drew her towards him and held her feeling her body slowly relax against him. “Besides I promise to watch over him to make sure nothing untoward happens for I know if you don’t cut off his balls and force them to him while feeding his penis to the animals, Hand will.”

She snorted a laugh into his chest.

They stood for a short while then he asked, “Why _are_ we being overrun with agents?”

“What?”

“We have at least two additional senior agents plus however many Hand brought with her.”

She pulled back slightly and frowned at him. “Coulson, that’s all we have. Only Hand was scheduled to visit and as you know Garrett turned up unexpectedly not a quarter hour ago. We _have_ no-one else to my knowledge.”

“Then why is Hand staying in my room?”

“Coulson, you are making as much sense as Garrett generally does. No-one is in your room.”

Coulson groaned and, gently letting her go, dropped heavily into a chair by the fire. He rubbed the stubble that was beginning to pass for a beard then ran his hand over his the rest of face. “How much trouble are they when I’m _not_ here?”

May snorted out another laugh and sat comfortably in the chair opposite him prodding him on the shin with the toe of her boot. “They told you that Agent Hand had evicted you from your bedroom…and you believed them! You’re getting old, Coulson.”

They sat for a moment or two in companionable silence then May answered his question about Clint and Natasha. “They’re actually excellent students. Clint is reading and writing extremely well if not particularly legibly; their weapons skills are possibly the best I’ve ever seen especially in ones so young; Clint with a bow is inspiring and Natasha with guns and knives is unsurpassed; they’ve taken to languages better than I could have imagined. They get on well with most of the scholars and instructors and even some of the students.”

“But…?”

She didn’t bother pretending. Of course there was a but. “The issues with Ward and Sitwell…”

“Sitwell? I knew about Ward but Sitwell also?”

“That’s Natasha.”

“ _Natasha_? She normally avoids trouble, unless Clint’s involved. Tell me about them both.”

May took a deep breath and went on to tell him the main incident that seemed to have set events in motion. Clint had broken Ward’s nose in the courtyard following a sparring session. According to the instructor, during the session Ward had pulled couple of moves "unbecoming a student of S.H.I.E.L.D."on Clint including a partial dislocation of one of Clint’s string fingers for the bow. Where this might work in the field it was not acceptable to injure a fellow student in such a manner when sparring. The instructor dealt with it by punishing Ward and although Clint had held himself in check at the time, it had prevented him from practising with the bow for several weeks until Bell was convinced the finger had healed. This made him wild with frustration so the next time he saw Ward he punched him in the face with his good hand breaking the other boy's nose.

Sitwell seemed to have sided with Ward and dealt out a punishment to Clint which involved an additional two weeks ban from practicing archery.  Unfortunately where Hill and May believed it was because there was really no-one else in his corner as the grooms and stable boys had stopped speaking to Ward when he’d been accepted as a recruit, Clint and Natasha  were convinced it was because he still considered them “guttersnipes”.

From that point on it had been all out war with Clint and Natasha for pulling pranks against the other two; pranks such as polishing Sitwell’s saddle with grease instead of oil, coating onions with frosting giving them to Sitwell and Ward as an apology, pouring honey on Ward’s face while he slept (sounds innocuous but his palm became stuck to his eyebrow and when he pulled his hand off in a panic it tore out most of the brow hair leaving him bald over one eye). In between Coulson’s chuckles she continued: releasing three pigs numbered 1, 2 and 4 into the courtyard when the house doors were open (it took two hours of searching before realising they didn’t have four pigs), and then there was the notorious debacle involving the bucket of horse piss, a sack of feathers and Ward’s mattress.

Coulson grinned, “I actually remember the pig prank when we were probably around their age.”

May smirked. “Where do you think they got the idea from?”

“Senior Agent May! I hope you were not encouraging these idiocies?” he said with mock outrage.

“I would never do such a thing, Senior Agent Coulson. It’s just unfortunate that Natasha happened to overhear Senior Agent Blake telling Agent Hill about it one evening after I _may_ have reminded him of the occurrence earlier in the day.”

Coulson let out a yell of laughter and when he finally stopped he became a little more serious asking “Why did you never tell me this by letter?”

“And what could you have done, Coulson? You’re not here.” And she held up a hand to silence him as he opened his mouth to protest. “I’m not blaming you for that. I understand you cannot be here; you have to go when and where you’re called. The children understand that too, they accepted it along time ago but sometimes they play up. And in fairness when we agreed Ward should be accepted as an Agent in training, we didn’t realise how bad things would get. It seems to have had the opposite effect to that which we’d hoped.”

“It’s made them enemies rather than provide a challenge.”

“Exactly!”

Coulson steepled his hands in front of his lips and sighed. “And the witch hunting?” May had been regularly updating him with this.

“At least they let Hill, Blake or I know in advance of leaving now and one of us will accompany them. Truly Coulson, they are amazing. I have no idea how they do it. How they track the witches, how the know how to defeat them, how witches’ spells do not work on them. That is curious is it not?”

Coulson had gone quiet again. “Hmmm,” he muttered absently with his head down.

“Coulson, I know you fear for them but what do you think would have happened if you hadn’t found them? If you hadn’t brought them here? They are a challenge but they are worth it.”

After a few moments silence, Coulson finally looked at her and she could tell by his eyes, his mind was no longer on the children. Her body reacted immediately setting a fire in her belly and a wetness between her legs. She stood slowly and closed the distance between them, then, taking his hand in hers, she pulled him up from his chair and into her arms. He held her close and leaned down slanting his mouth over hers almost devouring her with his need. She reciprocated with every bit of enthusiasm as he, thrusting her tongue past his lips and into his mouth, the pair of them battling for control of the kiss, the heat rising between them enveloping them in its embrace.  The kiss became deeper and more demanding and she moaned into his mouth as he increased the intensity of it. In retaliation for his winning that battle, her hand slipped down to his crotch cupping him gently and she could feel his hardness against her palm. He groaned as she stroked him through his leathers. “Have a care, May. There’s been no hand on my cock save my own for the last nine months.”

“None?” she asked giving him another squeeze.

“None," he gasped.

“Not even a tavern wench or an inn-keeps daughter?”

“Not even…ahhhhhh!” he breathed as she rubbed along his length before his mouth found hers again bruising her lips with his own.

Both of them jumped at the loud knocking on the door.

“Fair warning, Agents,” it was Blake who at least had the decency not to barge in after knocking. “I apologise for interrupting whatever it is I’ve interrupted however Hand has found Garrett in the kitchen. I suggest you make haste and get there before she does him some kind of mischief. I fear your reunion fuck will have to wait until later.”

“Fuck!” growled Coulson leaning his forehead against hers.

“He cannot stay,” May repeated from earlier.

***

They appeared in the kitchen just in time to hear the scullery maid squeal and jump off Garrett’s lap while Hand uttered the words in a voice that eerily calm and devoid of emotion, “I vowed the next time I saw you, John Garret, I would separate you from your balls and feed them to the pigs.”

May and Coulson looked at each other. He shrugged and muttered, “I was paraphrasing but you have to agree I got the general essence of it.”

“Well Agent Hand, as I live and breathe,” grinned Garrett.

“Not for much longer, I think,” murmured May leaning against Coulson who was leaning against the door frame, both of them looking very relaxed considering the potential outcome of the next few moments.

“Not for much longer, you craven, ill-natured son of a whore,” Hand growled slowly walking towards him like a predator stalking its quarry.

“Very close, May – just not so colourful.” Coulson congratulated her; May nodded in agreement.

“How long are you two going to let this go on?” asked Hill, standing behind Blake slightly. She was not worried exactly but perhaps a little apprehensive at their casual manner.

“Until she draws her knife?” Coulson replied looking at May for her opinion.

“Sounds about right,” she concurred. “Annnnnd there we go.” May danced neatly over to Hand spinning her round swiftly disarming her of the knife she had palmed while Coulson side-stepped them and grabbed Garrett by the scruff of the neck to drag him out of the kitchen door into the courtyard.

“Heeeeey! What the fuck?” he shouted pushing Coulson away.

“Enough, Garrett. You’ve made your point, it’s time to leave.”

Garrett shook his head, “I have the safe house regulations watching my back, even if you’re not.”

“Really? You’re going to hide behind that?”

“I’m hiding behind nothing. It’s my right as an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Very well, one day and one night of sanctuary and hospitality as per the code of the safe house. In the meantime there shall be no trouble or you will answer to me?”

“What happened to you, Coulson?” sneered Garrett. “You used to be fun.”

“I grew up, Garrett. Only you remained a prick!” and he strode back to the kitchen leaving Garrett in the Courtyard being stared at by Clint, Natasha and Ward.

“The fuck you looking at?” he spat. “Get on with your work.” And he stormed off across the yard to the armoury.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who continues to follow 'Clint and Natasha: Witch Hunters or Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.' - my sincere apologies for the delay in publishing new chapters of the story. I will try to write and post more regularly than previous but I hope the next few chapters will keep you going for now.

“And  _you_!” Hand shouted at Coulson when he returned to the kitchen. “If I wanted to fuck you, you would know it!”

Coulson looked somewhat panicked as he switched his gaze to May then back to Hand again. He opened his mouth to protest but she waved him off. “Don’t bother.”

May spoke calmly instead. “Is this about the bedroom thing?”

“Oh my god! He told you too? Couldn’t even ask me himself, had to send some child to do his dirty work. The famed Demon Slayer too afraid…”

“Whoa!” It had finally become too much for Coulson to listen to. “Victoria, I respect you as a fellow agent but make no assumptions about me wishing to bed you. If I wasn’t already…wait…which child?”

“A boy, around fifteen years, blonde hair, blue eyes.”

 Coulson narrowed his eyes and growled “Clint!” He looked to May. “When does his punishment end today?”

“That depends?” she made her response a question uncertain as to what Coulson had in mind but fearing it would involve periods of Clint flying through the air before landing heavily on the training mats.

“I think it’s time I find out what he’s learned during his hand-to-hand combat lessons.”

“Coulson?”

“I won’t hurt him,” he said to assure himself as much as to reassure May as he left the kitchen heading for his bedroom to change.  “Greatly,” he added quietly as an afterthought.

“I’d best go with him,” said Blake to no-one in particular thinking it would be wise to make a strategic exit before anyone turned on him.

***

Having dressed in a loose cotton jacket and pants, Coulson stood outside the combat training room, vaguely disturbed to see a very small pair of shoes already there.  He removed his own before entering, annoyed it wasn’t quite as empty as he’d hoped. Coulson’s expression immediately turned from one of irritation to one of guilt when he saw who was inside even though he was relatively sure he hadn’t actually done anything to warrant it; for some reason Senior Instructor, Lian May, just had that affect on him. Then again it could have been the fact he was fucking her daughter. 

Lian May was standing at the far end of the mats and he bowed to her as he entered. She bowed back and welcomed him albeit the way a mongoose would welcome a snake. “Good day, Senior Agent Coulson.”

“Good day, Senior Instructor May. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“I doubt that.” She paused for a beat. “So, Demon Slayer, are you still defiling my daughter?”

Ohhhh fuck! “I…that would be…Eh…” Oh god! What was he? Twelve? He tried to swallow but much to his dismay, his throat was dry. He coughed slightly and tried again, “No, Senior Instructor May.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then you are no longer bedding her?”

Unconsciously he crossed his hands over his balls and looked Lian May straight in the eye. As he didn’t burst into flames and his head didn’t explode from her glare he continued calmly. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then what _are_ you saying?”

If today was the day he was to die – horribly and painfully – then so be it. “Defiling would indicate I was taking liberties where they are not welcome. We both know that is not the case…at least with Qiaolian and me.”

Lian May’s stare intensified to the point where Coulson really did believe his head would explode…or his balls; probably his balls. However he held her gaze and concentrated on not fidgeting as a drop of sweat ran down his back. As with a demon one must never show fear to Lian May. Abruptly she nodded and the intensity of the moment dissipated. It was over… until the next time. 

“Why are you here, Demon Slayer?”

He couldn’t exactly say to teach a certain little rat a lesson; Lian May would wipe the floor with him so Coulson paused for a moment then said “To teach Clint respect, humility and control. If he does not learn these he will fail; he will die.”

The sudden realisation of his words shot a bolt of ice through his heart. There was no room for overconfidence or distraction in the field.  Clint was supremely confident in his skills with the bow and his handling of witches but he was easily distracted by someone like Ward, and demons had far more guile and slyness than that. Now, more than ever, he had to see what Clint had learned since he had been away.

She looked at him intently and once again asked, “Why are you here, Phillip J Coulson?”

For a moment Coulson didn’t answer, lost in contemplation. Then as her words filtered through his thoughts he frowned at her causing a triangle of creases around the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand. To teach…”

Lian May was having none of it. She interrupted him and asked for the third time. “Why are you here?”

Coulson paused once more and looked at her in the eye trying to comprehend the meaning behind her question. Out of nowhere the true reason entered his head. “John Garrett,” he whispered, surprised at the sudden insight. Garrett had angered him more than he realised; his disrespect of Melinda, of Victoria; his exploitation of the S.H.I.E.L.D. rules of safe harbour; his general attitude towards others. And he’d been about to take it out on a fifteen year old boy. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Lian May nodded finally satisfied having expected this answer all along. “To refuse an agent sanctuary would fall badly on the safe house that denied him and the senior agents within. If the time came that they needed a place of safety they might be rejected in turn. Therefore you must find another way, Demon Slayer; a way that forces him to break the rules or for him to leave voluntarily.”

The two of them traded looks for a few moments and for once, Lian May’s was not fully of hostility and irritation but of understanding and sympathy. She knew Coulson, unlike Garrett, was a man of integrity and honour who would sacrifice everything for those he loved, those he considered family, both now and in the future; he would also sacrifice everything for duty and for S.H.I.E.L.D. It would always be difficult decision for him – duty or family – and she knew the decision he would have to make regarding John Garrett was one that would set the course of not only his destiny but of others within S.H.I.E.L.D…it was already written.

“I will spar with you until your apprentice arrives,” the Senior Instructor announced. Coulson tried not to wince as he thought about the bruises he received during their last encounter especially those to his groin. Admittedly it was the first time after she found out about her daughter and him and if her goal on that occasion was to prevent them having sex for a week, she had achieved it and then some. Perhaps this time she’d go easier.

It was a forlorn hope for after five minutes of exchanging Wing Chun strikes Coulson found himself defending against a flurry of straight blast punches in quick succession which she was using to try and disorient him. He tried to tell himself that the diminutive woman, 7” shorter and a great many pounds lighter than he, was called Senior Instructor for a reason but in all honesty it didn’t help. He may not have had much of an ego but it, along with his body, was beginning to take a severe bruising right about now.

Finally after a round of punishing leg manoeuvres by Lian May narrowly missing certain sensitive areas, Coulson relaxed his shoulders then began his own series of chain punches. Gradually he stepped closer and closer to the Senior Instructor using his whole body rather than just his arms to strike, driving his fists forwards as a hammer drives a nail. 

Lian May smiled at him as he gained the upper hand and abruptly she signalled the end of the session bowing to her opponent forcing him to stop mid-strike and prevent the blow from landing. It called for great self-control and he accomplished it with admirable skill before returning the gesture dipping a little lower to show his respect.

Then, like most of Lian May’s questions, out of nowhere she asked, “Tell me, Demon Slayer, why do you always wear leathers? Is it because you look well in them?”

Coulson ducked his head slightly as he looked at her, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small grin, “Are you asking me or telling me?”

In response, the Senior Instructor threw a punch at Coulson’s head which he blocked with ease still with a smirk on his face. She nodded at him impressed. “You _are_ good,” she told him, her tone a cross between reluctance and approval at which he allowed his body to relax. His next breath found him on his back looking at the ceiling of the training room. “But not perfect. Your apprentice is here.”

Coulson groaned inwardly; the Demon Slayer had just been taught a lesson in respect, humility and control…by Melinda May’s mother.

***

He lay on the mats for a moment as the beginnings of an idea on how to deal with John Garrett began to form. Eventually Lian May nudged him on the thigh with her toe.  He looked up at her and flashed her that infamous Coulson grin then accepted the hand she offered him. He leaned down and whispered into her ear before giving her a kiss on the cheek then signalled for Clint, who had been standing dumbstruck at the door, to join them. 

Lian May hated to admit it, even to herself, but she could see what it was that her daughter found attractive about him and was pleased they were together for however long it was destined, not that either of them would ever find out from her. She had much more fun intimidating them with her mock disapproval. 

She looked at Coulson thoughtfully before the ghost of a smile passed over her lips gone almost before it was there. She considered his plan; it was a dangerous idea but it had merit and if Coulson could pull it off, the problem of Garrett would be solved for the safe house and its occupants, if only just beginning for the Demon Slayer.


	12. Chapter 12

Lian May left the room as Clint and Coulson bowed to each other. As he straightened Clint commented, “Wow! That was amazing. Pity she really handed you your ass at the end though!”

Much as Coulson had done minutes before, the boy suddenly found himself flat on his back staring at the ceiling. Unlike Coulson however, Clint was completely mystified as to how he ended up there. He thought it over as he lay stunned trying to get his lungs to accept air into them again – he hadn’t even seen the Demon Slayer move. Coulson raised an eyebrow and looked down at Clint before offering his hand to help him up.

Glaring at his mentor and angry at himself, Clint ignored Coulson’s gesture and got to his feet under his own steam. “That wasn’t fair! I wasn’t ready,” declared Clint, pouting.

Recognising damage pride Coulson said nothing but rolled his eyes instead as he readied himself for the next attack. Clint took a few breaths to steady himself before squaring his shoulders and beginning an offensive against the senior agent who defended himself with ease. He neatly side stepped an attempted throw instead catching Clint’s wrist using his momentum to pull him forward throwing him before letting go of his wrist as his shoulders touched the mat. Once more the air whooshed from him as he slammed onto his back again.

While Coulson waited on Clint to recover, the training room door quietly opened and closed. He looked over to see Natasha entering while giving her friend an evil grin as he lay wheezing on the mats. She smirked at him and to Clint’s disgust, mouthed “Idiot” before bowing to Coulson then readying herself in a Wing Chun opening stance before confidently driving forward in a flurry of movement. At the end of it, Coulson smiled and nodded before spinning her with a quick twist of her wrist where she joined Clint on the floor.

“Ha! Not as easy as you thought,” he panted grinning at her discomfort. Without pause she pushed herself up onto her feet again and tried once more to get the better of the Demon Slayer. As she moved towards him with a series of kicks, Clint recovered from his second landing and attacked Coulson from behind. Coulson held Natasha off before throwing her to the mats again with a side sweep over his hip then turned to Clint driving him backwards with a series of straight blast punches similar to those Senior Instructor May had used against him but with less speed and power so as not to hurt Clint.

All the time they were fighting Coulson kept up a running commentary on what they were doing right and giving them hints on where and how they could improve. Natasha in particular was a quick study and caught him with a sharp blow to the ribs causing him to wince.  Clint finally got over his wounded pride and settled into the sparring session beginning to enjoy the easy interaction between the three of them especially with Natasha and him working as a team to try and defeat Coulson. He knew it wasn’t possible of course, but it was fun to try.

***

Word had gotten round (thanks to Lian May fulfilling the first part of the plan) that Coulson was undertaking an impromptu hand-to-hand combat training session. Gradually the room began to fill with senior, junior and trainee agents some of whom were eager to take part and be the one who managed to floor the Demon Slayer and others who were just excited to see him fight.

Garrett called to a trainee as she past the armoury, the third one who’d run by. “Hey, honey britches! What’s goin’ on?”

Excitedly she shouted back to him, “The Demon Slayer’s putting on a demonstration. Senior Instructor Lian May says he will be taking on anyone who steps forward to challenge him. It’s very exciting!”

The senior agent rolled his eyes as he turned back to the room. “Yeah…thrilling!” he deadpanned. He looked to Ward who had followed him into the building. “If you want me to I can get you out of here. I won’t jest, it will not be easy but no-one will ever be half-faced with you again if you come with me. I need to know now, son; with me or stay here.”

Ward didn’t hesitate. “With you.”

Garrett grinned. “Atta boy! Go saddle my horse and one for yourself. Then join me in the training room. And bring a blade with you; I’m gonna need you to create a distraction.”

***

After half an hour with the Demon Slayer, both Natasha and Clint were getting tired. Having been caught up with the training of his two protégées, Coulson hadn’t realised the room had filled with so many people. He’d expected a few, enough to get Garrett’s attention at least, but not most of the occupants of the safe house! He braved a glance over to Lian May who gave nothing away with her enigmatic half-smile making him wonder exactly what she’d said to draw so many here.

He soon found out. He signalled the end of the bout then bowed to both Clint and Natasha which they returned bending deeply from the waist in a show of respect for their teacher. As they sat down breathing heavily and aching from some of the strikes that had landed, Junior Agent Hill took their place. Coulson narrowed his eyes and smiled at her before bowing. They’d sparred many times in the past and he found her to be extremely competent in various forms of hand-to-hand combat. She was fast and had obviously learned a thing or two since the last time they got together but he wasn’t immune to using dirty tricks to get the upper hand. As they took turns in scoring points against each other, Coulson manoeuvred himself into a position which caused Hill to grab hold of his jacket. He pulled away and twisted leaving the jacket in her hands and him with a naked torso. As her eyes widened at the sight of his broad, tattooed, hairy chest he swept her legs from beneath her and pinned her in a full mount.

He leaned forward and whispered in her hear, “Do you yield, Agent Hill?”

Cursing mentally at his obvious tactic she rolled her eyes at him and nodded slapping the mat three times.  He stood and held out his hand; Hill allowed him to pull her up from the mat and into a hug before releasing her with the two of them bowing.

“The tiger’s new,” she noted glancing down at his right side where a tiger tattoo was climbing out from his pants which were riding low on his hips and up his ribs where it glared up at a Chinese dragon. The dragon ran up his left arm and over his shoulder, its bearded head snarling back at the tiger from its place on the Demon Hunter’s chest. Both were symbols of power and strength – the tiger representing a ‘hard’ style (dominant and unrelenting showing invincibility and might), the dragon a ‘softer’ style (a defensive and more fluid circular attack providing protection with strong will). For Coulson both symbolised the requirements of a Demon Slayer.

“He is,” Coulson acknowledged, and the two of the grinned.  Hill returned to the side of the mats and Coulson flicked his eyes around the room; still no sign of Garrett. He sighed inwardly as Sitwell approached him for his turn at knocking the Demon Slayer down. Oh joy! At this rate he’d probably be dead before his plan could go into action.

As always, Hill was not the only person to react favourably to Coulson’s missing clothing and his tattoos.  Unlike some of the younger agents, his muscles were not sculpted and defined but instead were shaped from years of combat training and physical action in the field however it didn’t stop several of the female agents feeling a rush of warmth between their legs and more than one or two of the males squirmed uncomfortably trying to hide an erection.  Melinda who had joined the gathering allowed herself a small smile; she had intimate knowledge of the body they had only fantasised about and was looking forward to that “reunion fuck” Blake had mentioned earlier especially after watching him in action.

Neither Clint nor Natasha could look away transfixed by the way the tiger and dragon appeared to come alive as the muscles of his body flexed and rippled while performing various hand-to-hand combat moves. He had always been impressive to the pair but now he was something more, something exceptional that both wanted to aspire to and neither wanted to disappoint.

***

Garrett finally entered the training room to see Coulson taking on three opponents armed with wooden practice batons while a fourth Garrett recognised as Mack, a man far larger than the Demon Slayer, had him in a headlock. As the three charged towards him, Coulson gripped tight onto Mack’s forearm using it to balance him while he kicked the weapon out of the hand of first to reach him then swung his other leg to catch the second on the ribs forcing her backwards; using the same leg he kicked the third on the side of the head, knocking him off his feet.

Recovering quickly the three re-grouped and moved forward as one instead of separately to try and throw the senior agent off. Once again using his legs and Mack’s forearm as leverage he kicked out with both legs simultaneously knocking two of them backwards onto their rear ends. Landing easily back on his feet he released Mack’s arm, then turned his head to the side and let his body relax completely, effectively sliding out of the bigger man’s grip. Successfully free he aimed several punches at the third opponent’s solar plexus and stomach as she attacked which she blocked. He then feigned another blow, knocking her off balance to protect herself from a strike that didn’t land before throwing her to the mats in a hip sweep as Mack moved in.

Knowing Mack was behind him Coulson pivoted out of the bigger man’s reach and launched himself placing one foot on Mack’s thigh while throwing his other leg round his neck. Keeping the spin momentum going, the Demon Slayer leaned back using the bigger man’s own weight against him forcing him to the ground then pinned him in a cross-lock until Mack submitted by slapping the mat three times.  

The whole takedown of four opponents had taken less than two minutes. Coulson held out his hand to Mack who grinned and accepted the gesture pulling himself up with the smaller man’s assistance when a scream rang out from the back of the assembled group.  Heads turned to where the noise came from and there was a collective gasp as Ward was seen to be holding a double edged hoof knife to one of the younger trainees’ throat.

The three senior agents – Coulson, May and Blake – immediately moved towards him with May and Blake splitting off to either side leaving Coulson to get Ward’s attention; he had the best chance of talking the boy down being the group’s natural negotiator. Quietly and calmly he began to talk to the young man trying to get him to speak, to tell him what was wrong. Ward had been trying to get close to Clint but was unable to reach him before Garrett had given him the signal for the distraction to begin so, frustrated, he grabbed the nearest person pressing the blade against her neck.

Garrett who had circled the room quickly and quietly took full advantage of Coulson being distracted and kicked him on the side of the knee. He grabbed Coulson’s left wrist as he fell sideways to throw him but instead of letting go when he hit the mat, he held on causing Coulson’s shoulder to be separated from its socket. The noise it made when it happened drew everyone’s attention away from Ward, including Senior Instructor May who shuddered briefly knowing exactly what had occurred; as Clint described it later “Awww Tasha, it sounded like a leg being torn from a roast chicken.” From that day on Natasha made sure she was never around when a roast bird was served at the table, at least until the legs have been removed.

Coulson made no noise but grabbed his shoulder as he rolled onto his knees pulling the injured arm to his chest to protect it his pallor changing to a sickly gray. In truth Garrett was taken aback by what had happened. He’d expected to cause harm but not to the extent it occurred – it was an added bonus which he could use to his advantage. He stood to face the occupants of room and shouted, “Let that be a lesson. Even the mightiest of us can be brought down if we allow ourselves to be distracted; if we allow ourselves to believe we’re better than we are; if we…”

With a roar Coulson rose from the mat startling Garrett not only into silence but immobilising him in the process. Before the shout died, Coulson, with his good hand, grabbed the other agent by the throat and with an almost inhuman strength lifted him bodily off his feet slamming him into the mat before straddling his chest and pinning him there with his knees pressed into his upper arms once again using the full mount but this time with no quarter given; this was pure and simple a display of dominance.

“Do you yield?” he snarled as he glared into Garrett’s eyes.

Garrett’s own eyes opened wide in fear. In all the years he’d known the Demon Slayer, never had he seen him react in such a fashion and it scared the shit out of him, almost literally. The look in his eyes, the fury, the blackness…Jeezus! His eyes were black…completely and utterly black! What the fuck? Garrett blinked and when he opened them again, Coulson’s eyes were the brilliant blue they’d always been. WHAT THE FUCK!

“DO YOU YIELD?” he bellowed tightening his grip around Garrett’s throat.

Garrett slapped the mat with the palm of his hand in submission for he could move nothing else such was Coulson’s hold on him and croaked “I yield!” It felt as though The Demon Slayer was crushing his windpipe.

Coulson rolled off him and stood up breathing heavily while still clutching his shoulder. It was clear to all in the room, he was in pain but even so he’d overpowered his attacker and beaten him. Those who had been at the safe house three years earlier now had an inkling of how he’d defeated the level five demon which had caused his shoulder to be dislocated the first time. Clint and Natasha pushed past everyone to get to him as May issued instructions to a junior to fetch Dr Bell then joined the small group. The three of them turned to face the room with their backs to Coulson to protect him.

Blake, Hill and Sitwell walked to Garrett who remained on the floor still trying to work out what happened. Lian May moved towards them and began to speak in a voice which caused the murmuring that had begun in the room to fall immediately silent. The Senior Instructor looked to Sitwell and Blake who pulled Garrett up off the mat and held him between them with Hill blocking any rearward escape. She gazed into the face of the senior agent and spoke quietly and calmly.

“Senior Agent John Garrett, you have contravened regulation 1.4 of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Rules of Conduct, ‘Behaviour Unbecoming’ by wilfully injuring another agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. during a training session beyond that which is determined to be acceptable by an Instructor or Senior Instructor. If you so wish you may challenge my decision but I suggest that as you have done this in a room full of witnesses you accept your banishment from this safe house without dispute. You are no longer welcome here and will only be allowed hospitality in a time of war. What say you?”

“You dog-hearted harpy!  You set me up. You and that hell-hated scut,” shouted Garrett at Lian May and Coulson.  Coulson growled and took a step towards him but Melinda blocked his path.

Blake snarled in Garrett’s ear, “Go and be thankful it’s not being taken to the Council.”

Garrett whirled round to Blake and spat in his face. “Fuck you and fuck your house. And fuck the Council too! I will leave but know this, you’ll regret this day. You’ll all regret it sooner or later when you need me. You need the things that only I can do because you’re too chicken shit to do them yourselves. Fuck you!” and with those final words he left without turning back.

Again Coulson took a step forward and for a second time he was blocked this time not only by Melinda but also by Natasha and Clint. He sighed, forcing himself to relax and rested the hand of his good arm on Clint’s shoulder.

Lian May continued this time speaking to Ward. “Grant Douglas Ward. You may stay with us and accept punishment for your actions.”

Although Ward was clearly afraid of what had happened, he pulled in a deep breath and ran out after Garrett. His life could be no worse with the furious senior agent than if he stayed here.

“Good!” muttered Clint darkly.

Coulson squeezed his shoulder gently. He was sorry that the Ward had been dragged into this – it had not been his intention for that to happen but it appeared the boy wanted to follow John Garrett no matter what as his deeds of this hour had clearly shown. Sadly it said a lot for his character, none of it good.

Between them Blake, Hill and Sitwell cleared the room allowing Coulson and his three protectors along with Senior Instructor May to wait for Bell. Coulson and Lian May made eye contact and she nodded briefly. He did the same acknowledging that the plan had worked but with a price; the house and the Demon Slayer now had an enemy within S.H.I.E.L.D., one who would most likely stop at nothing to get even.


	13. Chapter 13

Dr Bell arrived quickly, escorted by the young trainee from earlier. Although he hadn’t seen him before today Coulson felt there was something vaguely familiar about the boy but he couldn’t... _quite_... place it. He wondered what this one’s story was, for all those who arrived here had a story.

“Thank you, Trip,” said May nodding towards the door hinting that he should stop staring at the Demon Slayer and leave. The boy heard May but either didn’t recognise the gesture for what it was or decided to ignore it as he remained steadfast at the door his eyes locked on Coulson as though he couldn’t believe he was there.

Coulson smiled at the boy’s fortitude, for there were not many who disregarded May and lived to tell the tale, and Trip beamed at the agent in return which lit up his entire face. It was then Coulson realised who the boy was. When he was available to do so, Coulson taught several demonology classes including one that focussed on the exploits of his heroes, the Howling Commandos, a legendary band of demon hunters from earlier years one of whom bore the name Gabe Jones. He thought back to the lithograph in a text he had and indeed the boy was the double of his grandfather, or at least the roguish grin was.

Then without warning Trip was gone leaving behind a strong presence of cheerfulness and mischief. Coulson laughed and then winced as a jolt of pain shot through his shoulder.

Quickly the doctor set his medical bag on the floor beside him then made a start examining Coulson’s shoulder saying enthusiastically in lieu of a greeting, “So it’s my turn to practice my skills on the famous Demon Slayer. My father is on another call in the next village over so I’m afraid he will be unable to attend you today. Mmmm! A dislocated shoulder I fear,” he announced after a few moments.

“Then I apologise in advance for all the trouble I’m likely to be,” replied Coulson with a wry grin. “In this instance though I’m afraid we were perhaps a little too quick to call you at all.” And he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and with an apparently well-practiced manoeuvre popped the joint back into the socket. The crunching noise made Melinda, Natasha and Clint cringe although Clint being Clint added with gusto, “ _Wow_! That was _disgusting_!”

“Don’t get any ideas, Clint,” warned Coulson. “It hurts like a whore’s...”

“Coulson!”  Melinda scolded, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

Continuing his examination, Dr Bell Jnr, shook his head with a kind of reluctant admiration. “Well, my friend, it appears that you can correct a dislocated shoulder at will. Does this happen often?”

Coulson considered his reply carefully before responding not particularly wishing a lecture from either the doctor or May. “Perhaps five times...well six now, since the original injury a few years ago. It’s not something I would do by choice but apparently I can get it to go back in again if it should become disjointed. It has actually saved my life a couple of times.”

“Wow!” said Clint again. This time both May and Coulson gave him a look that sufficiently admonished him. He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes at the injustice of being ganged up on by the two senior agents causing Natasha to give a snort of laughter.  

“It would seem as though it’s in the correct position. I can’t see any deformation of the shoulder. How is the pain?”

“Much better than it was a few moments ago.”

“Although I wouldn’t advise you do it on a regular basis...I must admit it _is_ somewhat impressive. I’m beginning to understand that my father didn’t exaggerate quite as much as I believed when it comes to S.H.I.E.L.D.  That being said, I would recommend icing your shoulder for 20 to 30 minutes every three or four hours for the next few days. And keep it as still as you can to let the inflammation come down, if you need to we can immobilise it or set it in a sling. I can give you something to ease the pain and reduce the swelling if you wish.”

Not being a great fan of opiates and their effect on him, Coulson shook his head. “I’ll do as you suggest with the ice and if the pain gets worse I’ll see about something else. Thank you, doctor. I appreciate you coming over, and again my apologies for bothering you.”

“It’s no bother, Agent Coulson. What happened anyway?”

Without looking at each other May and Coulson said together “Training exercise.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow then nodded choosing to accept their explanation even though it sounded a little too practiced to ring quite true; they presumably had their reasons. He picked up his bag.

“Well, if it should get any worse, please call me.”

“I will,” Melinda assured him giving Coulson a pointed glare. “Clint, Natasha – perhaps you can see Dr Bell out while I get Agent Coulson settled.”

They nodded and left with Clint asking the doctor about some of the grizzliest injuries he’d treated. Natasha looked back at the two senior agents and narrowed her eyes as she mimed smacking Clint on the back of his head. Only the doctor’s presence prevented her from doing it for real.

Coulson huffed out a laugh and May smirked.

Taking his jacket which her mother had retrieved from Agent Hill, she gently draped it over his shoulders being careful with the one Garrett had dislocated.

“Does that cause you any discomfort?” she asked him softly, touching his cheek with her finger tips.

He leaned down and lightly pressed his forehead to hers. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

They stood quietly for a moment, May’s hand skimming across Coulson’s cheekbone to his head where she threaded her fingers through his hair.

“It’s only my arm that’s damaged,” he murmured against her temple as he reached down to take her hand, his thumb ghosting across the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. She shivered at his touch.

“Is that so?” May was pleased, if a little surprised, to note that her voice remained steady even though her body was starting to react favourably to his caress and his voice.

“Mm-hmm. However I fear I may be in need of some kind of distraction this evening...to keep my mind off the pain.”

“Really? The mighty Demon Slayer has never needed one before,” she teased sliding her hand down to the nape of his neck scratching the soft skin gently. He sighed in appreciation.

“The mighty Demon Slayer has been away for nine months...”

“...with no hand on his cock Save his own,” she finished for him with a smirk remembering their conversation from earlier. “Then perhaps I should tuck you in with some scraps of cotton instead of telling you a bedtime story.”

“I’d rather you screamed out my name as you rode my shaft,” he growled in her ear all gaming apparently set aside.

She wasn’t sure if it was his words or his tone but one (or perhaps both) finally broke her resolve. “Room,” she ordered with a breathless edge to her voice. “I’ll get the ice.”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Ice?”

May rolled her eyes. “For your shoulder, oh wise one!”

Then with a mischievous grin she pressed her lips against his and whispered, “Although I can think of other ways to use it that would certainly keep your mind off your Injury.”

Coulson would never admit to whimpering as such but he might be persuaded to concur that the noise he made generally wouldn’t have been associated with a senior agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or a veteran slayer of demons.

 

***

 

As Coulson headed to his room, he was approached by Agent Hand.

“I heard about what you did,” she informed him with a fleeting smile.

He nodded. “Bad news travels quickly.”

“As does good and I fall firmly into the camp of good news. Will you be alright?” she asked nodding at his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” he told her with a flash of his lopsided grin.

She paused for a moment then hesitantly said, “About earlier…”

“Think nothing of it,” he interrupted but with kindness in his voice.

“I appreciate that however I feel I should apologise. Garrett…” she trailed off as resentment consumed her. She paused for a few moments before composing herself enough to continue. “Garrett is a bastard from hell and I want nothing more than to stick a blade between his eyes. I took my anger out on you and for that I am truly sorry.”

Coulson sighed gently. He was conscious of the affect Garrett had on most women, women with sense at least. However in Victoria’s case he was well aware of the situation that had occurred between them several years before. When Garrett’s advances had been politely, then not so politely, turned down by her on several occasions, and upon discovering that she preferred women to men as her sexual partners, he had made it his objective to cause her life to be a living hell whenever he could. So much so on one occasion she’d had to leave the safe house in which she resided when he appeared. The safe house in question was run by someone who shared Garrett’s views and provided her with no support when she eventually turned to him for assistance. And so she packed her bags and left made to feel ashamed and worthless.

It had taken her a long time to become the strong, capable woman she now was and not give a fuck about what people thought of her but Garrett was certain to rile her like no other. In some ways Coulson would love for her to follow through with her threats but it would go badly for her if she did and May, Blake and he had vowed to stop it from happening. That being said, if there was ever the day they could make it look like an accident, he would be sorely tempted to let her.

He gave her a small smile, small but enough to cause the corner of his eyes to crease. “As I said, think nothing of it, although I thank you for saying.”

“I bid you good evening then, Coulson.”

 “And to you, Hand.”

 

***

 

“You are a sick puppy!” Natasha told Clint as they headed back to the house.

His eyes were shining as he thought about one of the more repugnant stories that Bell had regaled them with. “Okay, I admit, it was disgusting but can you imagine seeing it?”

“Yes, hence the reason I called you a sick puppy.”

“I wonder if Coulson’s heard the tale. I wonder if he’s had the injury.”

Natasha shook her head with a cross between irritation and amusement. “Probably yes...to both.”

“Let’s go and see how he’s faring and I can tell him about it.”

Natasha grabbed his arm as he started to jog to the entrance.

“Wait Clint,” she said holding him back.

He frowned at her in question.

“Perhaps you can tell him in the morning.”

“Why?”

“He’s probably getting some rest.”

“But we always spend time with him when he’d injured. Now are you coming or not?”

He tried to run again but Natasha kept a tight grip on his arm.

“What _is_ it?” he asked in an exasperated tone.

She hesitated before speaking. “I just feel we should leave him be tonight.”

“Why so?”

Again she paused. “I believe he will have a visitor he’d prefer to see other than us.”

Clint was scornful of his friend’s preposterous suggestion, after all who was more important than the “obnoxious children”, and pulled his arm free. He entered the house slightly ahead of her and made his way to the stairway leading to the senior agent’s chamber.  Just as he reached the bottom he saw Agent May at the top walking briskly towards Coulson’s room. He ducked back out of sight watching as she kicked the door gently with the toe of her boot. Coulson opened it with a broad grin as he saw it was May carrying a bowl full of chipped ice.

Although Clint didn’t quite have the same view as May he could see more than enough. Both his and May’s eyes opened wide with surprise; Coulson had divested himself not only of his jacket but his pants too and was standing before her naked from top to toe.

“And what if it hadn’t been me?” she hissed at him uncertain whether to be amused or annoyed at his brazenness. Either way it didn’t stop her from taking in the sight of his rigid cock with hunger and appreciation. It was full and hard curving upwards towards his belly, the head glistening with pre-come begging to be touched.

Coulson gave her a little half smile, not in the least embarrassed and with a voice that was low and full of sin told her, “Then I would imagine they would have the same look as you when I opened the door.”

Ignoring the bowl of ice between them, he pressed May against the frame capturing her lips with his own kissing her with such heat and fervour that it made her moan into his mouth. Her free hand gripped the curve of his buttock pulling him closer to her making his erection nudge against her stomach. She knew he must be aching for release but they were both well aware that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. They would tease and taste and touch each other until he could hold back no longer, giving himself up to an orgasm that would leave them both breathless and exhausted but very satisfied; their much anticipated reunion fuck.

Mesmerised Clint was unable to look away, his mouth dropping open. Like everyone else in the safe house, he knew of course that May and Coulson were lovers but they were always very discrete and he had never seen them so much as touch before. Witnessing them in the middle of such a private act both shocked and aroused him. Yet at the same time, inexplicably, he found he couldn’t breath such was the pain in his chest. He could feel tears beginning to well in his eyes and had no idea why.

The spell was broken as May and Coulson, still locked in a devouring kiss, half-walked, half-fell back into his room the door closing behind them with a surprisingly quiet click. Clint’s breath hitched as he tried to get air into his lungs then he let out a sob that seemed to come from the soles of his boots. Blind with tears he still didn’t understand, he turned to run crashing into Natasha instead. He looked at her with an expression of such anguish it almost broke her heart.

 “Oh, Little Bird,” she said gently, holding him to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long to post...I've had no internet connection for six weeks :( 
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy the next few chapters with some teenage angst.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to everyone who remembers having their heart broken by their first major crush...

Sensing it was almost time to rise, Natasha unwrapped herself from around Clint. It wasn’t the first time they’d slept in the same bed for comfort. They instinctively knew when the other was in need of reassurance and would curl up together until sleep took them or dawn’s light pushed through the curtains. The previous night had been a dawn’s light occasion with Clint alternating between heart-wrenching sobs and miserable silence as he finally came to understand his feelings for Coulson.

From her position behind him, Natasha rested her chin on Clint’s shoulder and peered down at this tear-streaked face. She noted his eyes were glazed and puffy with huge bags beneath them. In a word he looked awful.

“Come, Little Bird. It’s time to get up and go for breakfast.”

Unblinking, he shook his head.

“They will ask after you if you don’t come down.”

He buried his face in his pillow. “Leave me be,” he mumbled.

“Clint...”

“LEAVE ME BE!”

Natasha sighed quietly but did as he requested. She slipped out from beneath the covers giving him a gentle kiss on his head before returning to her room for a wash and a change of clothes. There was little she could do for her friend save be there for him. His heart had been crushed and he would have to live with the pain until it repaired itself or he got used to the knowledge that Coulson belonged to someone else.  He may have been aware of it before but seeing Coulson and May together as he had last night brought the reality home to him in the cruellest fashion.

 

***

 

Entering the dining hall, Natasha immediately spotted May and Coulson along with Blake, Hand, Hill, and Sitwell. They were gathered around a table eating breakfast, the four senior agents regaling the two juniors with some fantastic tale that had them on the edge of their seats. She felt a tug at her heart, not just for Clint, but for herself. She too had seen Coulson kissing May with a passion that made her long for him to kiss her in such a manner.  Unlike Clint however, she had long since accepted he would never see her in that light but it still tore at her more than she cared to admit.

Rather than sit at a table with the other students who were starting to arrive for breakfast, she took enough food for herself and Clint and headed back to her room; he would perhaps feel like eating later. Perhaps she would too.

As she reached the door of the dining room she felt a familiar presence by her shoulder. She stopped but didn’t turn.

“And where is the stomach on legs?” Coulson enquired of Clint with a hint of amusement in his voice. Although he said it as a joke there was certainly an element of truth to it, Clint would eat his weight in food at breakfast some mornings if he was allowed.

Natasha knew it was irrational of her to be angry at the Demon Slayer, he was totally innocent and had no idea of the pain he had inadvertently caused, but she felt a flare of annoyance anyway.

“Clint is unwell, Agent Coulson,” she said stiffly without turning to face him.

He raised an eyebrow at her tone and the fact she’d called him Agent Coulson. Unless they were in class or with other students in a formal setting, she always just called him Coulson or something else much less respectful.

“I see. Does it warrant a call from Dr Bell?”

“No, sir, I don’t believe it does. But I thank you for your concern. May I go?”

Coulson was worried. Natasha had never spoken to him like this before nor had she ever been this distant. Both Clint and Natasha appeared to have been in good spirits and good health the day before despite the excitement with Garrett and Ward. For Clint to be ill this quickly could mean something serious, perhaps something to do with the sugar sickness from which he suffered. He had to eat at regular times and routinely take his medicine; if he hadn’t done one or both... He let the thought trail off but didn’t voice his concerns out loud. He decided he would see for himself.

“You may.”

She nodded and started back to her room. The familiar presence however remained beside her. She sighed. Although she was resigned to the fact that this would be the most likely outcome, it didn’t mean she had to like it.

“And you are following me because...?”

“Not following; merely journeying in the same direction a step behind.”

Natasha smiled briefly despite herself. He could be such an ass.

“That is your prerogative, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed and together they walked in silence to Clint’s room.  

Upon reaching the door Natasha paused outside it. Still with her back to Coulson she said, “I believe this is your destination, Agent Coulson.”

“I believe so, Cadet Romanoff.”

“Then I bid you good day, sir.”

The senior agent sighed quietly. Apparently it was a habit they shared when they believed no further ground would be gained.

With a hint of sorrow in his voice, he answered, “Good day, Tasha.”

The despondency to his tone and his use of the name that only Clint and Coulson were permitted to call her immediately made Natasha regret her shortness with him along with the hurt she had obviously caused. She stood for another moment her head bowed in contemplation. Coulson didn’t move or speak knowing words would come as and when she was ready. Finally she asked quietly, “Your shoulder...is it better?”

The corner of Coulson’s mouth turned up in his lopsided smile. “It will be,” he told her softly. Uncertain as to how he knew, he somehow understood whatever strangeness had occurred between them had passed.

She nodded once then continued to her own room with a barely imperceptible smile on her face glad he had forgiven her.

Coulson knocked on Clint’s door. There was no response. He knocked again and asked, “May I enter, Clint?”

“No. Go away.”

Oh wonderful! He was two for two this morning. He tried again.

“Natasha said you are unwell. I came to make certain it was not serious.”

“Go. Away.”

“Clint...”

“With all due respect, fuck off...sir!”

Coulson’s face bore a look of unreserved shock. “Huh,” he uttered completely taken aback. Natasha may have been cold towards him earlier but Clint had easily surpassed that. Lord! What had happened since yesterday?

“At least you got a sir” said an amused voice beside him. It was May.

“There is that,” he agreed.

His hand dropped to the door knob and he made to enter but May laid her hand on his forearm. He looked at her and she shook her head.

“Leave him be,” she advised him.

“But I don’t know what I’ve done.” It was said with such sadness that May’s heart suddenly ached for the Demon Slayer. The childlike expression of wide-eyed hurt on his face wasn’t helping her feel much better. She could shake Clint until his teeth rattled.

“You’ve done nothing,” she told him firmly. “He’s a fifteen-year old boy whose emotions are everywhere. He’s going through changes that are making him different from one minute to the next. Surely you remember what it was like at his age?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, May wished she could take them back. They both knew that Coulson had gone through a horrific and terrifying time when he was a year or so younger than Clint.

Coulson ducked his head and with a sideways glance, he gave her a small smile. “Only too well,” he said softly.

She reached up to touch his cheek her eyes full of regret at her thoughtlessness. “Forgive me, Coulson. I’m sorry.”

He took her hand in his and drew her close holding her to him. Resting his cheek on her crown he murmured, “There is no need to seek forgiveness, May. If you and Blake had not been there for me in those dark days I doubt I would be alive now.”

She sighed into his chest. There was some truth to his words but in reality, if he had not the strength of character nor the will to survive as he had then and indeed, continued to have now, he would never have lived beyond his fourteenth birthday.

 

***

 

Before heading to her classes, Natasha returned to Clint’s room. Without bothering to knock and having no care of what she might find, she entered greeting him at full volume while she strode over to the window to pull open the curtains.

“Aww, Tasha, no!” he yelped pulling the covers up his body and the pillow over his face. Yanking the pillow back off, she smiled at him with all the terror of a cat teasing a bird (Natasha Romanoff could be menacing when she had a wish to be). 

For the next few minutes she bullied and cajoled Clint into consuming some of the food she’d brought for him then watched him inject his medicine. Satisfied he wasn’t going to die from hunger or sugar sickness, she ruffled his hair so that it stood up at odd angles. With an unusual display of compassion she closed the curtains again before departing leaving him both dazed and worn out. She’d had no more sleep that he the previous night, in fact probably less, but where Clint was emotionally drained, Natasha seemed to thrive on it. But then she hadn’t had her heart ripped out, Clint reasoned laying back against the pillow his eyelids drooping as exhaustion finally claimed him.

He managed to drift into an uneasy sleep after Natasha left  until he woke bathed in sweat with a warm stickiness spreading across his belly; he’d come in his sleep. Hardly surprising, he was a hormonal teenager after all and this certainly wasn't the first time.

Not quite fully conscious, his mind recalled the source of his orgasm – Coulson. The memory of the Demon Slayer’s broad shoulders and way the muscles of his back flexed and rippled as he pushed against May in the doorway of his room caused him to shudder uncontrollably. The tight curve of his buttock with his thigh pressed between May’s legs while his mouth devoured her in a heated kiss was almost too much for him.

“Fuck!” he cried out sitting bolt upright chest heaving, breathing heavily.

Beads of sweat had formed along his forehead and his cock was beginning to fill out and harden again. He fell out of bed and stumbled to the wash basin and jug on his dresser. He stuck his head under the jug as he up-ended it gasping when the cold water cascaded over his head, neck and shoulders. He made quite a mess only managing to half fill the bowl while the rest of the water slopped over the side and onto the dresser and floor but at least it had the desired affect; his erection wilted and his balls shrivelled up.

Clint shook the water drops from his hair and took a few moments to catch his breath. He could not continue to think of the Demon Hunter in such a way. He dragged on some clothes and once he’d mopped up the worst of the spilled water he left his room closing the door quietly behind him. He could not face classes today, especially if May or Coulson were teaching any. Instead he left the confines of the house to head for the spot Natasha and he favoured when they wanted to get away from everyone. She would find him later if she so desired.

Hearing the steady clip of nails on the cobbles behind him he called over his shoulder, “You can follow me if you wish, Fury. But know that I will be climbing a tree and smart as you are, I don’t believe that’s something even you can do.”

The wolf shot passed him, nudging his nose into the back of Clint’s knee causing it to buckle beneath him and for Clint to drop in an ungainly sprawl on the ground. Lying on his back, he huffed out a short laugh at Fury’s behaviour. He may have been a wise alpha in the prime of his life but he still played like a foolish pup now and again.

Natasha did find him after her classes and joined him up in the highest branches of the tree that Fury could not climb. They talked with a heart-felt seriousness for a time then sat in companionable silence each taking comfort in the presence of the other. It would be a long time before Clint came to terms with his emotions but now that Natasha had confessed her own feelings for Coulson he felt for the first time it was at least possible.


	15. Chapter 15

Natasha and Clint were returning from an errand in the next village and as they entered the yard they noted with interest that Triskelion had been saddled and was being held by one of the stable boys in readiness for Coulson. What they didn’t expect was for the Demon Slayer to come tearing out of the house in full tactical leathers and leap onto his mount to set off at a fair clip. He didn’t stop to talk but he at least managed a grin and a wink on his way by. Close on their heels came Fury his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and a glint his eye. Something was obviously afoot.

Had their own horses not required rest they would have followed him for at least some of the way but the animals came first frustrating though it was. As they walked across the yard to find out what was going on, more horses were brought out in readiness for their riders; May, Hand and Hill and a dozen others were also leaving. Again they were too busy to stop and speak but Hill gave them a grin and mouthed “mission” before she pulled her mount round and headed off with Hand and half the group to turn left at the entrance while May and the rest turned right after Coulson.

They spotted Blake at the door flanked by Sitwell. It did not bode well for Clint and Natasha. They dismounted their own animals and led them over to the two men.

“What’s going on?” asked Clint who in his excitement forgot that the agents before him were not his greatest advocates. Blake raised an eyebrow but made no attempt to enlighten him regarding the situation.

Natasha poked Clint in the ribs and tried. “Are you able to tell us anything, sir?”

Blake stared at her for a few moments, his hooded eyes unblinking and expressionless. It was a look that had cracked many a tough nut. Natasha however didn’t flinch; Natasha _never_ flinched he recalled. Finally, with a grudging respect, Blake drawled, “We received news when you were out. Coulson has gone to investigate, the others to alert safe houses and villages.”

“What sort of news? Why did we not get to go?” It was very close to a whine which grated on both Blake’s and Natasha’s nerves.

“Forgive me, Barton for not consulting with you prior to the decision being made,” Blake snapped. “I quite forgot that S.H.I.E.L.D. is here to pander to your whims and not to provide assistance to those in urgent need whenever it is requested.”

Sitwell snorted earning a withering look from Blake and a death-glare from Natasha and Clint. Neither had quite forgiven him for siding with Ward during their various altercations. Stating he had business elsewhere Sitwell wisely retreated to the junior agents’ study.

Blake continued. “As it happens I requested that you remain here. And before you bellyache about how unfair your life is, Barton, I requested it because I have need of your skills with the bow and Romanoff’s skills in general. We have spared as many agents as we can without endangering the house but it and its occupants still require to be protected. Young as you are, I believe you well suited to that task.”

Clint’s mouth fell open. He had expected Blake to make some comment about them being useless and getting under real agents’ feet but to know that the grizzled senior agent thought enough of their skills to request them specifically was the last thing either of them imagined him saying.

Blake smirked. “I’m glad I have the ability to interrupt your mouth from its usual flapping, boy. I may not indulge you the way that Coulson does but I can recognise potential when I see it. I also trust his instincts and the faith he apparently puts in you. Do not let him or me down.”

And with those words, he turned on his heel and left Clint and Natasha standing bewildered gaping at each other. It was the most either of them had heard Blake say in the three, nearly four years they’d lived in the house.

“Sir?” Clint called after him.

He paused but did not turn.

“Thank you.”

Smirking to himself Blake continued to walk away before commenting he believed Coulson had left a letter for them on his desk.

Although the situation had been slowly improving over the last week or so, things were still strained between Clint and Coulson; Clint because his feelings for the older man were still overwhelming and often he didn’t know how to react around him; Coulson because he had no idea what was wrong with Clint and was frustrated he couldn’t help him. Clint hadn’t dared hope the agent would follow that which had become a tradition and leave Natasha and him a letter. Coulson started doing it before each mission to help Clint with his reading and it had become a routine that the Demon Slayer kept up apparently even now.

Before they could read the letter, Clint and Natasha had first to tend to their horses, however once that was done they raced each other back to the house. Entering Coulson’s study they tried to jostle each other out of the way but Natasha’s slap to the back of Clint’s head distracted him enough to allow her to get to the letter first. Snapping the wax seal in two she unfolded the page and handed it to Clint to read aloud as was the custom. He perched on the edge of the desk and began as Natasha dropped into the seat.

 

“ _My dear Clint and Natasha_

_Forgive the shortness of this missive but I have not much time. We have been alerted to the possibility of an influx of wraith and other troubled spirits heading our way. It may be something or nothing but either way I go to investigate its merit. I shall not divulge where as I do not wish you to follow (yes, you would so stop pouting, Clint).”_

Clint smiled at that as did Natasha.

_“In seriousness, you are needed here and I will let Blake explain if he has not done so already. Heed him. He is a good man, and a wise one. You will learn from him if you choose to. If you do not then sadly it will be your loss. You just need to bear in mind his bark is far worse than his bite...usually (so try not change that both of you!)_

_I do not know how long I or the others shall be gone but do your best to keep out of mischief for some of the time at least. Blake’s hair is grey enough._

_Yours in fondness_

_PJC_

_Senior Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Demon Slayer and Rescuer of Obnoxious Children_ ”

 

“Shit, Tasha. It sounds just like him.”

“What did you expect, Little Bird?”

Clint sighed. “I don’t know. He takes time he doesn’t really have to write us a note like he always does. I’ve been such a horse’s ass with him and he doesn’t call me on it. Do you think perhaps...?” He trailed off and looked round at Natasha with hope in his eyes.

“No, Clint,” she told him gently. “Don’t confuse his love for us with our love for him.”

He sighed again and nodded. He knew what she was saying was true. “Yours in fondness” was hardly a declaration of undying love but he would always hold hope in his heart.

He wanted no danger to befall Coulson, but Clint welcomed some time away from the Demon Slayer for being around him every day since That Night had been torture. He couldn’t un-see what he had witnessed and even when the memory, forever seared on his brain, wasn’t tormenting him other thoughts, unbidden as the first, would stray into his mind: the effortless way the Demon Slayer flowed around the training room, his muscles flexing and rolling giving life to the dragon curled round his arm and shoulder that snarled down at the equally fierce tiger steadily climbing up his side growling right back; the light sheen of sweat that covered his skin making it glisten and run down his body in thin rivulets as he moved; the covering of hair on his chest narrowing to a fine line trailing down his stomach disappearing into the loose pants riding low on his hips. Clint’s breath caught in his throat.

“Clint!”

The sharp slap he received to the back of his head helped him shake all such thoughts out of his mind – for the time being at least.

Natasha pulled herself out of Coulson’s chair. She ruffled his hair as she walked by him.

“C’mon, idiot. We won’t be needed until tonight but it won’t do any harm to check our weapons and get some sleep before then.”

***

The first few watches had been uneventful but on the third night Triskelion had entered the yard without her rider. Clint’s gut clenched as climbed down from his perch where he watched over the house. Natasha had seen the horse enter too and had headed to rouse Blake from his slumber.

Clint called gently to Triskelion who came to him and nuzzled her nose against his shoulder. Heart thumping in his chest, he led her to her stall in the stables and began to remove her tack and saddlebags examining her carefully for injuries as he did so.

Used to being woken at all hours, the stable master rose swiftly from his bed above the stables upon hearing hooves on the cobbles.  He entered the stall but seeing Clint murmuring softly to the horse as he rubbed her down, let them be. He knew Clint would take excellent care of the Demon Slayer’s animal. Instead he went off to fix her some feed and water for when she was settled.

“Is she well?” Natasha enquired from the stall door. Clint knew she wasn’t just asking after the horse. She wanted to know if there were any signs that Coulson had been injured. He’d found nothing; no wounds, no blood (Triskelion’s or anyone else’s), no indication that anything was amiss other than the fact that Coulson had not arrived with her.

“She’s in good health, Tasha. In fact, she’s not even sweating and her heart isn’t racing.”

Natasha frowned. That meant she had been in no rush to get to the safe house which also meant Coulson was probably well. In that case why did he send her on without him?

“Check his saddlebags, Clint. Maybe he left a message. I’m going back out. Call me if you find anything.” And with that she disappeared as silently as she arrived. A minute or so later a second voice spoke gruffly to him.

“Why are you here?”

It was Blake looking rumpled and weary much like he did during the day but more so. He was also looking pretty pissed.

Clint looked over and frowned at him thinking it was bloody obvious.

“You’re supposed to be on watch. That’s your priority, Barton. Not Coulson’s damned horse.”

Clint’s eyes flashed with anger but he held his tongue. Blake was right and it stung. Over the last few days the two had called an uneasy truce that was getting less uncomfortable as time progressed. This however may have put things back a bit.

“I’m sorry, sir. I thought...”

“No you didn’t. You let your emotions get the better of you. What if she’s a decoy, sent to distract you from warning of an attack?”

He was right a second time but Clint spoke up anyway.

“She’s not,” he said with a hint of defiance.

Blake raised both eyebrows cocking his head to the side slightly. “Is that so?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yes, sir...” Clint paused for a moment then believing he was going to be torn a new one anyway proceeded to tell the senior agent what he found, or rather not found.

Blake narrowed his eyes. “Have you looked for a message?”

“I think she _is_ the message,” Clint said with excitement believing he was right. “That Coulson’s unharmed; he’s just doing something...different, something that he can’t use Triskelion for.”

Blake snorted and entered the stall. He patted the horse’s rump gently as he passed her to get to her tack. “That may be but Coulson has a hidden compartment in Triskelion’s saddle.” And after a few seconds of searching Blake triumphantly raised his hand with a few sheets of folded parchment.

Clint watched as Blake broke the seal and unfolded the paper. Seeing the words on the page, written in code but definitely in Coulson’s hand, Clint’s body deflated – he felt like a complete fool.

“I didn’t know,” he said faintly. “I’ll get back on watch, sir, if I may?”

Blake acknowledged him with a distracted grunt. As Clint left the stall, the senior agent called him back. Clint turned towards him then dropped his eyes to stare at his feet rather than let Blake see the shame on his face.

“It was sound reasoning, Barton. What you said about the horse. Not everyone would have caught it. But never leave your post when you’re on watch unless it’s to alert the house of danger. I need you there for a reason and not to be so easily distracted. Is that understood?”

“Sir.”

“Still here?”

“No, sir,” Clint replied and all but ran from the stall feeling a bit lighter at Blake’s words even if they were half praise half scold.

Blake smirked at Clint’s disappearing back. He gave Triskelion’s neck an affectionate rub as he turned to leave for the house. “Perhaps he’s not so stupid,” he said to the horse. She nudged him with her nose and shook her head.

Blake sighed and shook his own head. Now _he_ was starting to seek the opinion of the bloody horse!

 

*** 

 

A few days later, Clint started awake in the afternoon earlier than he intended feeling groggy and bleary-eyed. Natasha had been right (of course she had) when she had advised him it would be better to stay up for the day and go to bed early evening seeing they had just come off night watch. Now he was paying the price for not having listened. He would probably have slept longer but something in his subconscious had dragged him from his slumber which had been half-hearted at best.

Pulling on a loose shirt and a pair of training pants he left his room and padded silently along the corridor to Coulson’s study. He opened the door and peered inside not really expecting anyone to be there but sitting behind his desk was the Demon Slayer himself. Clint’s heart leapt at the sight of him. It seemed that their time apart had done little to douse the flame that burned inside him for the older man and he was both elated and dejected by the realisation. Fortunately his body was too tired to do anything about it.

“You’re back then,” he yawned rubbing his head making his hair stand up on end.

“Apparently so,” Coulson agreed mildly. He smiled at the sight of Clint still half-asleep looking thoroughly dishevelled. “Go back to bed, Clint, you’re making the room look untidy. We’ll talk when you wake.”

“Nah, not really tired,” he said giving another frightening yawn which contradicted his words somewhat. “’sides, I wanted to tell you about the shadows.”

Coulson laid his pen on his desk, the hairs on the back of his neck and arms rising as a frown passed over his face. He restored his carefully blank expression before Clint noticed and kept his voice calm when he asked, “What shadows, Clint? When did you see them?”

“Last night. Sort of like shadows within shadows. C’n I sleep here for a time?”

Fuck! Shades! thought Coulson to himself. They were back not a moment too soon and hopefully not too late.

Leaving his desk Coulson took Clint gently by the shoulders and guided to one of the chairs by the glowing fire. Clint dropped into it and pulled his feet underneath him only just fitting the chair to be comfortable; another growth spurt and he would no longer be able to do so with ease. Coulson retrieved an old blanket from a shelf and draped it over him before tenderly touching his hand to the young man’s head encouraging him to sleep. He would be needed awake soon enough.

“Glad you’re back, sir,” he murmured drowsily but with happiness.

“Sleep now, Clint. You did well.”

Once he was certain Clint was sound, Coulson went in search of Blake and May. Danger wasn’t coming; it was already upon them.


	16. Chapter 16

A short time later, Clint woke to a steady murmur of heated conversation. Disoriented for a moment that he was not in his own room but Coulson’s study, he cautiously peered round the back of the chair to see the three senior agents in deep discussion about something or someone. Blake appeared to be riled almost beyond reason while both May and Coulson sought to calm him. He pulled his head back to safety lest anyone should see him but was not quick enough to be missed by Blake.

“You!” he snarled pointing his finger in Clint’s direction.

Clint winced and screwed up his face. What had he done (or not done) now? With an attempt at an innocent expression which, absurdly, only served to make him look guilty, he glanced back towards the three agents.

“Sir?” he enquired, letting go of the blanket allowing it to fall back onto the seat as he rose up from the chair. Grunting slightly he uncurled from his now cramped position and stood to attention facing the trio.

“Why did you say nothing of the shadows, boy?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I...” Clint began hesitantly. Breaking off, he frowned and dropped his head to give himself a moment to come to a bit more and provide an appropriate response. Unfortunately, it gave Blake the wrong impression and seemed to anger him all the more.

“Sorry makes no odds. You’ve put the whole house at risk not to mention everyone in the village.”

“Sir, I...” he looked desperately to Coulson and May.

May put her hand on Blake’s arm but he pulled away from her stepping angrily towards Clint. Not that he believed he was in actual danger but the ferocity in the agent’s face was beginning to alarm him.

“Have you learned nothing since you’ve been here?”

“Blake, enough!” Coulson called out sharply. He took a breath and swallowed down his own anger which was threatening to rise up – not a good sign. Regaining his composure he said in a calmer tone, “Let him speak.”

“A bit late for him to speak up now,” Blake retorted. Nevertheless he paused in his interrogation of Clint giving him the opportunity to actually respond.

Clint flicked his eyes gratefully to Coulson then looked back at Blake. “I’m sorry, sir,” The senior agent sighed impatiently causing Clint to cringe internally. He hadn’t meant to apologise a second time; once was bad enough as the man had no tolerance for weakness, especially if it led to mistakes. Clint hurriedly continued.

“What I mean is I’m sorry I didn’t come to find you myself. I was on my way to do so when Agent Sitwell stopped me and asked me to report. I told him what I’d seen and he advised me he would deal with it himself.”

Blake narrowed his eyes and stared at Clint for a very long moment during which he could feel a trickle of sweat run down his spine. Fuck! Dealing with an infuriated Blake was more terrifying than any witch he’d encountered so far. 

Abruptly Blake turned and pulled open the door to Coulson’s study and roared Sitwell’s name into the hallway. If the junior agent himself hadn’t heard it there were plenty of others who had and within a few minutes he knocked on the doorframe and entered.

“Sir?”

Blake wasted no time on idle chitchat. “Did Barton make his report to you last night?”

Sitwell frowned and looked from Blake to Clint and back again. “I...well yes, sir,” he confirmed.

Blake raised his eyebrows and looked incredulously at him. “And?” he prompted, any patience that remained was rapidly evaporating.

“And I entered it in the log as normal, sir.” The junior agent looked confused.

“You...? Oh for fuck's sake, he told you of the shadows?” Sitwell nodded. “Then why didn’t you come and find me?”

Sitwell was very much aware anything urgent must be taken to the senior agent on duty immediately in order for them to determine the most appropriate course of action; the log merely served to keep a general record of the watch. Some read the latest entries first thing in the morning and others before they went on shift. But this was a naught but a few shadows from the over-active imagination of a fifteen-year old boy who enjoyed being the centre of attention. Blake should be grateful he hadn’t wasted his time with it, especially after the fuck up with Coulson’s horse a few nights previous.

“It was a clear night with a full moon, sir. There were bound to be shadows. I didn’t want to disturb you with that.”

As Blake became apoplectic and appeared fit to explode, May took over the questioning.

“Sitwell, you are aware of why I, Coulson and the others left several days ago.”

He nodded. “Yes, Agent May. There were rumours of wraith...” he stopped short and closed his eyes as the implication became clear to him. Shadows could also be shades and if there was a convergence of shades along with wraiths and other entities from the spirit world it could mean impending disaster for anyone nearby when they appeared, perhaps even death...or worse.

He opened his eyes again and shook his head. “I have no words,” he said to the three agents, his voice cracking as he realised the enormity of his error.

Blake waved away his apology too angry to speak and turned his back on the junior agent in dismissal, folding his arms across his chest as he did so.

“I’ll saddle my horse and head for Stark’s immediately.”

Coulson sighed wearily and shook his head in the negative. “There’s no need, Sitwell. We’ve already dispatched a rider. Get all the available agents together in the training room for a briefing; dismissed.”

Sitwell nodded and as he turned to leave he made an attempt to apologise further. “I’m...”

“So help me if the next word out of your mouth is sorry, I will eviscerate you where you stand.” Blake’s voice was filled with disappointment and bitterness as he spoke.

Coulson jerked his head towards the door indicating that Sitwell should leave without further ado which he did with a look of utter despondency on his face.

Now facing towards Clint, Blake’s voice and stern expression softened...slightly. “It appears I owe you an apology, Barton.”

Clint raised his eyebrows and tipped his head to the left as he waited expectantly. Blake snorted realising the acknowledgement of the need to apologise was not enough for the young man; he wanted to hear the words. “Forgive me, Barton. It was wrong of me to blame you without first giving you the opportunity to tell us what occurred.”

“And to lose my temper with you,” grinned Barton giving a nod of encouragement for him to continue.

“You’re pushing your luck, boy,” Blake growled, narrowing his eyes but with the tiniest glint of humour in them Clint thought...or rather, hoped. However he wisely accepted Blake’s apology without any further teasing.

The senior agent harrumphed. “I’ll begin preparations,” he informed May and Coulson and strode from the room.

“I’ll let you tell him the good news,” May said with a smirk as she left to assist Blake.

“Tell me what ‘good news’?” Clint asked with a heavy dose of suspicion in his voice.

Ignoring him Coulson asked, “Really, why do you and Natasha continue to provoke Blake?”

“ _Coul-son!_ ” said Clint with a petulant whine.

In contrast to Blake and Natasha, Coulson often found Clint’s bratty whinging amusing and would tease him good-naturedly until he restored the boy’s humour but there was an urgency to this day that could not afford such easy banter. Instead, he tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows as his lips curved up in that little half-smile of his. “You’re back on night watch tonight. I need to you tell me when you see the shades.”

Clint let the information filter through his brain. He was going on watch with Coulson. With Coulson! When some scary fucked-up stuff could happen! He tried to cover the thrill that was running through him by casually jutting his chin out saying with a mildly interested air, “Oh! You can’t see them then?”

Trying not to smile at Clint’s attempt at nonchalance knowing full well he was excited at the prospect of engaging supernatural forces no matter the danger involved, Coulson shook his head. “Not many people can.”

Clint mulled that over for a moment then asked in all seriousness, “Then why can I?”

“I’m not sure, Clint,” Coulson admitted. “Sensitives and witches can often see them, but perhaps it’s your exceptional eyesight that allows you to catch a glimpse of them when others cannot.”

Coulson walked towards Clint and gestured for him to take the seat he’d recently vacated as the Demon Slayer sat in the other. Clint lifted the blanket and wrapped it around him as he joined the older man.

Coulson leaned forward, his elbows on his parted knees, his hands clasped before him. “Tell me about the shadows.”

Coulson’s voice rolled over him, soft yet commanding and his piercing blue eyes locked onto him pinning him to the seat. The intensity of his gaze and the earnest way in which he spoke made Clint’s throat dry and other parts of him stir. A shiver ran down his spine.

“Forgive me. Are you cold?” Completely oblivious to the real reason, Coulson stood and threw another log on the fire before settling down in the same position as before; focused, attentive, eager - all for Clint, just not in the way he desired. It made him want to scream with frustration. He wanted to declare his feelings to the Demon Slayer; to tell him he loved him with every fibre of his being. For Coulson to hold him and tell him he loved him too. But he knew these were adolescent fantasies and he _never_ wanted Coulson to see him as some foolish love-struck child.

So instead and with the maturity of one of far greater years, Clint took a deep breath and closed his eyes to concentrate better on Coulson’s request rather than the man sitting opposite him, and began to describe how he visualised the shades.

“In the shadows I can see other shadows, darker ones, swirling around. They’re not very clear, just vague shapes really but I know they’re there.” He opened his eyes again and sighed, annoyed with himself. He could tell by Coulson’s expression he was being more confusing than helpful but he didn’t know how else to describe them until suddenly he did. Unconsciously mimicking Coulson he leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees and with a hint of excitement, he tried again.

“You know sometimes you catch sight of an object out the corner of your eye but when you look at it directly, it’s gone? It’s like that but I _can_ see them either way.”

Coulson nodded in understanding and smiled, making his eyes shine in the firelight and the creases in the corners deepen. Fuck he was gorgeous, thought Clint barely withholding yet another shiver.

“That’s good, Clint. Well done.” Coulson’s praise was like honey and Clint felt himself blush and grin like a damned fool but he couldn’t help himself. He was still basking in the agent’s words when Coulson changed tack and asked, “Do you think you could sleep some more before tonight?”

For the briefest moment, Clint pictured himself curled up in Coulson’s embrace, his back pressed against the older man’s chest as his warm breath tickled the back of Clint’s neck, their arms and legs tangled together. Shocked, he started at the image and shook his head to clear it from his mind. Damn these fucking thoughts!

There was genuine concern in Coulson’s voice as he mistook the alarmed look on Clint’s face and his reaction for one of fear at what lay ahead. “Try for me. I need you rested before the watch starts. Clint, I know I’m asking much of you...”

Suddenly tired of hiding his emotions and needing to get away from the very person he longed to be with, Clint stood up from the seat and pulled the blanket from around his shoulders handing it back to Coulson. “No, you’re asking no more of me that you would of anyone else, sir. I’ll be ready for the watch.”

Shoulders slumped he turned away and began to leave the room. Coulson called his name and he turned back to face him.

“About earlier with Blake, I’m sorry.”

Clint shrugged. “It’s of no matter. I’m used to Agent Blake calling me on being an idiot. He’s usually correct.”

Coulson frowned at his words and the resignation with which they were spoken. For the hundredth time, he wished Blake would not take his anger out on the students or junior agents and resolved to speak with him again.

In the meantime, and for as much his own benefit as Clint’s, Coulson said with such compassion it almost made the young man weep, “It _does_ matter, Clint, more than I perhaps realised.”

Coulson dropped his eyes to his hands and became silent for a moment before continuing. “I suspect he would not thank me for telling you but I will take you on your honour that this will go no further... excluding Natasha,” he added acknowledging that Clint would tell her anyway. “Blake’s been through the like of this before and barely survived; his family did not. Not one.”

Clint thought about that appreciating both the trust that Coulson had placed in him and the insight it presented regarding the other senior agent and his brusque attitude to all. He could only guess at the anguish Blake must have suffered with the loss of his entire family and perhaps even the physical pain he must have endured. Terrible as it was, this new knowledge certainly explained much about the man and his mistrust of everyone around him save perhaps Coulson and May.

“Then his reaction is understandable,” Clint said softly and with apparent empathy.  He stood quietly for a time seemingly lost in thought before shaking his head once again and asking, “Do you wish that I attend the briefing, sir?”

Knowing he had been right to reveal Blake’s circumstances to him, Coulson gave him a small smile. “Get some sleep, Clint. I’ll see you for the watch.”


	17. Chapter 17

Natasha barged into Clint’s room just as he finished getting his clothes on.

Although he was used to it, he rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Fuck’s sake, Tasha! Have a care. What if I’d been...busy?”

Natasha snorted at the euphemism. “As I have no great desire to see your hand on your cock, I would have left you to it and whatever thoughts of a certain someone that were steering you on.”

Clint looked so wounded she almost regretted her teasing words...almost. She did however apologise before ruffling his hair and punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“Are you ready?” she asked him.

Clint nodded. He was nervous, not because he was spending the entire watch with Coulson, although that was daunting in its own way, but what if he was wrong? What if the shadows where just that and anything else he had seen was some flight of his imagination?

Reading him perfectly as always, Natasha nudged his shoulder with hers and said, "Don't doubt yourself, Little Bird. I trust you on this and so does Coulson."

He shrugged and nodded then seeing her look of scepticism took a deep breath, nodded with more conviction and said, "I'm ready."

Natasha smiled with affection as he squared his shoulders and marched out of the room with bow and quiver in hand. To her it was obvious he was acting with more confidence than he felt but she admired him all the more for it.

***

As dusk was beginning to fall, Coulson waited in the courtyard and nodded as Clint and Natasha joined him. He was wearing the minimum of weapons (admittedly there wasn't much as could be done against an apparition) but he was never truly unarmed. He had dispensed with his swords and guns but Clint and Natasha knew he would have several knives secreted about his person and both noted the repeating crossbow nestled casually in his arms.

The crossbow was one custom made for the Demon Slayer by Tony Stark which he favoured above all others. It was surprisingly light and strong and could fire multiple rounds in quick succession before requiring to be reloaded as it possessed a magazine for bolts and a mechanism to redraw the bowstring. The double bow design could also separate firing in two directions at once – handy in a skirmish. Stark could be a pain in the posterior but he excelled at making outstanding weaponry.

Apparently relaxed and completely at ease with himself, Coulson took in the pair before him. They were nervous...and scared. They had tells; everyone had tells. Natasha would chew her bottom lip while clenching and unclenching her right hand whereas Clint went quiet and dropped his head. Occasionally, if he was really nervous, he tapped – his fingers, his hands, his feet – sometimes all at once. Right now he had his left thumb hooked under the strap of his quiver and was tapping his chest rapidly with his bowstring fingers. Of course they had tells, it was just a matter of recognising them and controlling them but that was a lesson for another time. Tonight they need reassurance.

Coulson let go of the silver butt of his crossbow keeping the rest of the stock balanced safely in the crook of his arm and rested his hand on Clint’s shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Ready, my Little Hawk?” he asked. His face was serious but his eyes were kind.

Clint nodded although Coulson’s touch and the use of his nickname almost made him come undone. His mouth was dry and he was afraid any words would come out as an embarrassing squeak. Best he was thought to be anxious (not much stretch of the imagination) than an idiot.

Coulson gave him one last encouraging pat before turning to Natasha and repeating the gesture with her. “Tasha? Do you wish to join us or return to the house?”

Natasha stole a look at Clint. His face wavered for a moment his expression flitting between telling her to fuck off back to the house and relief that she might join them. However after a few seconds he gave her a quick nod and grinned. Perhaps having her with them would prevent him from doing something completely foolish especially after the way his skin seemed to burn through his shirt where Coulson’s hand had pressed against him.

Natasha looked back at Coulson narrowing her eyes and nodded once. “With you.”

The Demon Slayer very nearly smiled at her fierce expression but prudently kept his face impassive. Instead his blue eyes twinkled in the last light of the evening and Natasha’s stomach flipped over at his steady gaze meeting hers. She knew it meant nothing to him, just a friendly touch intended to give confidence, but feeling the warmth of his hand against her shoulder made her ache all over. Damn Clint and his hormones; he’d raised to the surface that which she’d buried away several months before. However it was time once again to put all such thoughts away, for tonight they had a job to do.

Her mask firmly in place, she asked with an insolent tilt of her head, “We still here?”

Coulson snorted and dropped his hand away to look back at Clint. “We’d best get to your perch, Clint. Where have you been keeping watch these last few nights?”

“Where do you think, Senior Agent Coulson?” he smirked folding his arms across his chest in challenge.

Coulson rolled his eyes and looked over Clint’s shoulder at the large beech that stood guard at the entrance to the courtyard. It was the best vantage point of this side of the house and if he was high enough, Clint would also be able to see anything coming from all routes. Coulson’s enthusiasm dampened just a little as he looked at it, a somewhat painful memory from his childhood entering his head. Of course that’s where his perch would be. Where else would it be? It was called a perch for a reason...high up...in the bough of a tree...the biggest tree nearby.

“What’s up, old man? Does the thought of climbing a tree scare you...or is it the thought of getting those leathers of yours dirty?”

Coulson raised an eyebrow but did not allow himself to be baited. Instead, with that little half-smile of his, he asked Clint, “Does this mean you did not find my initials?”

Clint frowned at him. He’d seen others’ initials including May’s and, oddly enough, Blake’s which further amazed him by being those he found at the highest point (until he added his own of course) but he had not seen Coulson’s.

“Yours are there?” he asked in surprise.

Without answering, Coulson secured his crossbow to his back and sprinted to the beech gaining enough speed and momentum to allow him to push off the gnarled roots then catch and haul himself up into the lower branches where he began to steadily climb the tree. He ignored the screaming muscles of his shoulder as the recently healed joint throbbed in protest at the strenuous activity. Dear God! He could hardly climb this tree at the age of thirteen, what made him think he could do it at twenty-eight...not exactly old but his body had been through a lot in the intervening years.

Clint and Natasha looked at each other, grinned and chased after the Demon Slayer racing him up the tree, chiding him for his slowness as they passed him much to his disgust.

With a grunt Coulson pulled himself up a few more feet before losing his footing and sliding back down again. Fucking stupid trees! He was a Demon Slayer, they fought on the ground. He was not built for climbing fucking stupid trees. He prayed to any deity that may be listening that the history of his boyhood would not repeat itself.

***

“He may be graceful when he’s prowling on the ground but he has as much elegance as a duck on dry land when he climbs a tree.” Stark commented as he peered through the small gap in the shutters. He and his companion had arrived at the safe house a short time before Clint and Natasha awoke. His companion; an attractive woman perhaps a little younger than Stark with a determined chin and a hint of wilfulness about her, joined him at the window.

Agent May looked puzzled for a moment then, as she realised to whom Stark was referring, her expression became concerned.

“Oh Lord! Don’t tell me they’ve persuaded him to climb a tree,” she said striding across to the couple’s position.

“Not _a_ tree...more perhaps _the_ tree,” Stark smirked.

“Then you had best pray to whatever gods in which you believe that history does not repeat itself,” muttered the senior agent, unknowingly echoing the thoughts of Coulson as she nudged Stark out of the way. His smirk turned to a hiss of pain as her elbow jabbed him sharply in the ribs with excellent precision.

Much as May hated to admit it, Stark was right. Coulson had no finesse or style as he rose up the branches however it didn’t stop her or Pepper appreciating the view of his rear as the leather stretched over his buttocks and across his shoulders as he wiggled himself into position before disappearing amongst the leaves.

Huffing at the not-so-subtle hums of approval coming from the two women he said loudly trying to get their attention, “Sounds like you have a tale to tell there, Agent plumb-plucked buttock-pincher.”

“Anthony Edward Stark!” His companion exclaimed, aghast at his impudence. “I’m so sorry, Agent May. Pay no attention to the shockingly rude man you’ve permitted entry to your house. If I weren’t so afraid that he would talk the spirits into dissipating before we were ready I would suggest you throw him outside again.”

May gave Stark a withering look which had him involuntarily reaching for his balls before replying, “Have no fear, Miss Potts.  I rarely pay attention to the droning dizzy-eyed apple-john at the best of times and certainly not when his lips are flapping with such nonsense.”

Ignoring Stark’s gasp of protest, Miss Potts nodded with approval. “Pepper, please. I swear he spends more time thinking up offensive names for people than he does making his contraptions.”

“Quite possibly true, Pepper dear,” agreed Stark. “Now Agent... _May_ ,” he flashed a look at Pepper who smiled sweetly in return before he continued.  “I believe you were going to explain your remark about the tree and Agent Agent.”

“I don’t believe I was going to do any such thing,” May rejoined dropping into the chair by the window.

“We do have some time I believe,” encouraged Pepper, settling herself in the other chair. “Much as I don’t share Tony’s eagerness at hearing about some misfortune that may have befallen Agent Coulson, I would be interested to hear the tale if you have a mind to tell it.”

Stark threw himself on his knees in front of Pepper but facing May and held his hands together in a begging posture. “Pwease, Agent May?”

Pepper playfully cuffed him across the back of his head and for a moment May saw Clint and Natasha in ten or fifteen years; it was a disturbing yet strangely comforting thought.

Preparations for the expected gathering were in full force; the servants had been sent home save a few who had refused to leave; the youngest students to the Doctors Bell and all agents were on high alert. The house itself had been battened down as though for a fierce storm and wards to defend the stronghold were now in place. There was nothing more to do than wait which was making everyone tense. Perhaps the story would provide a much needed break for the two visitors who had been busy since their arrival. Besides, knowing Coulson would be less than amused when he found out that probably his greatest weakness had been revealed to none other than Anthony Edward Stark, could be amusing and with a mischievous glint in her eye, May acquiesced and told the story of ‘Coulson and the Great Beech Tree’. 

_“Climbing the beech is a right of passage for students at the safe house. Knowing they will do it anyway, the senior agents tell each new intake and half-heartedly remind old hands that the tree is out of bounds to all save the night watch.  Over the years, more than one adolescent has been on the receiving end of broken bones while several have been paralysed and one lost his life. But children being children, they dare, cajole and threaten each other with ‘taming the tree...”_

***

Half a minute (or so) after Clint and Natasha reached his perch, Coulson joined them. They scooted over and made room for him on the thick tree bough.

“So...not a natural tree climber then?” Clint asked with a grin leaning past Natasha somewhat precariously making Coulson wince. The Demon Slayer warily settled himself into a reasonably comfortable, and more importantly, safe position beside them before replying.

“Not all of us were raised in the circus,” he said dryly. He paused for a moment apparently lost in thought before adding, “I have a somewhat...unpleasant history with this particular tree.”

Clint’s eyes shone with the prospect of a rare Coulson story as he and Natasha looked at each other; in fairness the look in Natasha’s eyes wasn’t any less eager. They waited for Coulson to continue but when it became obvious he had no intention of doing so, she nudged his shoulder with hers and told him “You can’t say something like that and not continue."

Dusk had fully settled in and night was snapping on its heels however Coulson could still make out the beseeching look on her face, something she’d apparently learned from Clint as the expression he wore was identical when Coulson looked over to him.

“You know we’re on watch duty, yes?” he asked, straight-faced with a raised eyebrow.

Clint and Natasha nodded but if anything, their expressions became more imploring.

Coulson rolled his eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh pretending to be much put upon. In reality, he would willingly suffer the indignity of the tale to keep their minds occupied for a time before the seriousness of the night ahead became all too real.

“Very well,” he groused with mock irritation and began to tell his story completely unaware that at this very moment, May was doing exactly the same thing.

***

A look of concern passed across Pepper’s face at May’s opening words however Stark, still on the floor, brought his legs round in front of him and shuffled backwards to lean against Pepper to get more comfortable. His companion absently stroked his hair with her elegant fingers as May continued...

_“Eventually, it was Coulson’s turn. He was new to the safe house, quite small and shy with a reputation for being serious but in order to be accepted by the others he consented to the challenge. Blake was a few years older than most in the group and had his own bow so he was the one who loosed an arrow into the branches of the tree. Coulson’s dare was to bring the arrow back. It wasn’t quite at the highest point of the old beech but it was on the edge of a branch that looked unlikely to hold the weight of a sparrow never mind a boy no matter how small he was._

_Rather than back down as urged by Blake who realised his aim was unusually off that day, Coulson shook his head, squared his shoulders and set off towards the tree with a determined look on his face. As he passed the rest of us I pressed my knife into his hand and told him to carve his initials into the branch; the dare wouldn't count if he didn't leave his mark. He stared at me for a moment with that intense gaze of his before nodding and resuming his journey to the tree._

_After several failed attempts at which one or two of the children laughed and jeered, albeit quietly so as not to attract attention, Coulson finally found a spot from which he could begin his ascent. Then, as now, he had no style as he climbed gaining height and managing not to fall with more luck than skill. He skinned the palms of his hands several times as he missed his footing and slithered back down a few feet on each occasion but undeterred, he continued upwards. After a time Blake whistled to let him know he had reached the branch. All that was left was for him to retrieve the arrow, carve his initials and return to the ground._

_It seemed strange at first, but Coulson climbed a little higher than he needed to causing some of those on the ground to believe him a little simple as well as shy. However the limb he finally stopped at was directly above that with the arrow and was also several times the thickness. He slid his back down the trunk of the tree and sat leaning against it for a moment before dropping his legs on either side then he shuffled his way across. Reaching the position of the arrow below him, he pulled one leg up and placed it beside the other hooking his knees round the branch before tilting backwards to hang upside down to retrieve the arrow._

_He placed the shaft lengthways in his mouth then swung himself back into a seated position and made his way back to the trunk. He stood carefully and at that point made the unfortunate decision to look down at the rest of us whereby a wave of vertigo apparently struck him and he tumbled head-first out of the tree.”_

“That explains a lot,” snorted Stark before giving a yelp of pain from the sharp tug of his hair given to him by Pepper.  “Well it does,” he pouted rubbing the sore patch.

Pepper, already on the edge of her seat, leaned forward. “Please continue,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

_“It took considerably less time for him to return to the ground than it did to climb the tree but he must have hit every other branch on the descent and while it may have slowed his drop, it did not stop the inevitable. All the children scattered save Blake and I. We were rooted to the spot watching as he plunged to the earth below. Finally, his fall was halted with a sickening thud and he lay motionless in a heap on the ground._

_We couldn't move and just stared at his lifeless body until, after what seemed liked hours, Coulson took in a deep, painful breath and raised the hand in which the arrow was held; miraculously both it and Coulson were still in one piece.”_

***

“Fuck off!” exclaimed Clint.

Coulson chuckled. “Too dramatic?”

“Too full of shit more like!” Natasha snorted at his words. 

Feigning indignation Coulson said with a wound tone, “Clint, I’m hurt. Do you really think I would lie about something like that? Clint?”

Clint didn’t reply. Carefully he reached across Natasha and gripped Coulson's leg, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave painful bruises. Slowly he turned his head towards them and whispered, “The shadows are here.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a serious thing about Coulson in leather; and being soaked in the rain; and baring his broad, sexy, hairy chest; and let's face it, being butt naked. As the work progresses, this will happen as often as it makes sense for the story (and probably sometimes when it doesn't!). I also have a thing about the Coulson/Barton/Romanoff threesome (or the Holy Trinity of Hot as Mad_Muse_Musings calls it) with all three of them leather-clad and getting it on - there's not enough of these so...


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